


MMObound

by let2gotwoapplebee2



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, Humanstuck, M/M, MMORPG, Nerdiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-14
Updated: 2012-04-17
Packaged: 2017-10-31 04:55:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 18,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/340137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/let2gotwoapplebee2/pseuds/let2gotwoapplebee2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sollux Captor is 22 years old, a successful freelance web designer, and an avid player of the wildly successful MMORPG, Grubquest.</p>
<p>Karkat Vantas is 19 years old, a cranky CS-major freshman, and an avid player of the wildly successful MMORPG, Grubquest.</p>
<p>Sollux and Karkat are the worst best friends and one of the top player-pairs in the game.<br/>In a month, they're meeting for the first time and it's exciting... and terrifying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. MMObound

Your name is SOLLUX CAPTOR and you are currently gathering empirical evidence on just how hard you can flip somebody off.

You unleash a string of truly creative oaths into his headset. In your ear, there’s a raspy and familiar cackle. On the screen, your idiot Mage is moving at one-tenth speed, thanks to some douchemuffin spamming Slow. You keysmash desperately, praying for any of his spells to hit some sort of target before the next Ice Age. The hearty sandpaper laugh continues to grate against your ear.

“Oh my fuck, you really are the most USELESS partner if you can get caught up in a fucking Slow spam! Shit in a coffin, you fucking suck!”

“Okay, thankth KK. I get it. I am the wortht player ever to have grathed the internet.” You sigh heavily and slump down in your chair. Fuck.

For the next three agonizing minutes, you have to watch your typically agile character lumber across the screen like a glacier while your partner hurls truly acerbic barbs at you. His Knight brutally smashes through anything that has the misfortune of getting too close to you, orbiting circles of death. He keeps up his colorful insults the whole time. From his liberal sprinklings of “faggot”, “retarded”, and “gay” among an otherwise admirable vocabulary, you’ve figured (prayed, really) that he’s older than fifteen, but younger than twenty. He’s never told you when his birthday is, but he’s mentioned driving and being jealous of your drinking, which further enforces your theory. 

Your mage springs back to life and you join your partner once more in the handy annihilation of the enemy pair. You slam spell after spell at them, making them rue the day they ever made you wait to kick their asses. You trade calling directives with your cranky teammate and, within minutes, the match is decisively ended.

As usual, chatter in the game lobby is awful.

“…And I mean, who the fuck would even let ninnies like you near computers in the first place? I hope you don’t have expensive machines. Fuck, that would be like using platinum forks to serve antelope shit!”

You’ve always kind of admired his creativity.

“Alright, KK, that’th enough. It’th like three in the morning there. Don’t you think you should be getting to thleep now?”

“Shut the fuck up, Queerass Mc Lisplord! I don’t ever fucking sleep. And you know what? Just because you said that, I’m not going to sleep today, either. I’m going to go to school on zero hours of sleep and it’ll be your fucking fault.”

“Your thpite ithn’t my rethponthibility, KK-“

“Argh, fuck! Stop it with the KK shit! I have an actual fucking name, dickwad!”

“I’m thorry, in the culture I wath raithed in, we refer to children by nicknameth.”

“Fuck you! That is a crock of unadulterated shit!”

A quick glance to the sidebar tells you the opposing pair is long gone.

“Yeah, it ith. You can calm down now, Karkat. The other two are gone.” You pull your glasses off, massaging the bridge of your nose. A weary sigh sneaks out of you and you realize Karkat must have heard it.

“Hey, you alright over there? Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to blow up at you. Maybe you should get some sleep.”

“I’m not gonna thleep until you do.” You can’t help but laugh a bit at how easily he can go from raging his ass off to being a concerned mother hen.

“I’ll be fine, KK. It’th not like I have to wake up at a thertain time. You, however, do. Don’t you have a tetht tomorrow?”

“FffffffFUCK! Shit fuck GOD fucking dammit, yes. I fucking do. I guess I am getting some sleep, then. Shit shit shit.”

“Eheheh, thorry for methhing with your game plan. I thwear, though: thleep actually ITH a good thing.”

“Yeah, whatever. It’s just a waste of time.” 

He falls silent for a moment and, just when you open your mouth to say your good nights, he pipes back in. This time, he’s hesitant and rather un-Karkatish.

“Hey, uh… Sollux?”

“Yeah?”

“Um, were you still planning on going to that Con next month?”

“Uhh, hell to the yeth? Wouldn’t fucking mithh it. Why?”

“Well, I was kinda thinking about going and… I mean, it’s no huge deal or whatever, but I was wondering if you’d wanna split the cost on a hotel or something, since you’re the only person I know who’s going.”

“Damn, you mutht be dethperate if you’re athking to share a hotel room with thomeone you’ve only met on Grubquetht. Do you theriouthly not have any other friendth going?”

“You know what, never mind. Clearly, this is a much bigger fucking deal than I realized I was getting my sorry ass into. I’ll just leave you to stew in your basement now, assmunch.”

“Hey, woah. Thorry. I didn’t… no, it would be fine. I think it would be cool to finally meet you at Con, you know?”

“Hey, fuck you. I’m only gonna do this if you aren’t gonna spend the weekend getting drunk and laughing at my ass.”

“KK, you know me. I can only ever do one of thothe at a time. Hey, I’ve already got a room retherved, tho you can jutht give me your cut when you get there. Thound good?”

“Yeah. Sounds awesome.” You can’t help but grin. It’s nice to hear the kid get excited without a fountain of swears. “Okay, uh, I guess I’ll actually get to bed now. Night, Sollux.”

“Night, Karkat.”

You grin to yourself. You, of course, have no intention of taking his money. The kid is, from what you’ve gathered, not in the most posh of circumstances. A few months ago, he told you he’d be off for a while, since he couldn’t afford his subscription anymore. A week later, he was shrieking in your ear that some beautiful anonymous bastard had gifted him a yearlong pass. Sure, he can’t always put two and two together to make four, but he’s your friend. He may well be your best friend, actually. 

Rather than dwell on what it means for you and your life that your best friend is a cranky teen on the internet, you decide that getting some sleep actually would be a good idea. You log off and crawl into bed, grinning until sleep finally curls around you. You wonder what color KK’s hair is.


	2. Drunk Coding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sollux likes to code drunk because he is my spirit animal.  
> Also, Intro to Java classes are awful.

You glare at the miles of code stretching before you. You’ve got about three hours until KK usually signs on and you’d really like to have this done by then. However, somewhere in the vast expanse of now-unparsable bullshit, something is desperately, miserably, horribly WRONG. Some misdirected tag, a dropped parenthesis, has turned your entire page into useless, utter crap. Your eyes burn from hours spent staring at the screen, but it’s not about to end any time soon. You screw them shut and decide it’s time for some Tennessee Honey. 

One lovely mixed-with-Coke drink later, you’re back at the computer and ready to fight. An hour and a half later, you’ve found the damned slippery parenthesis and, once it’s inserted, the code compiles beautifully. You lean back and grin. You shoot the file on over to your client, with the note to be sure to mail you back over anything they’d like changed. This is, of course, a pointless courtesy. No one ever has any changes to make. Total customer satisfaction is less of a goal and more of a reputation of yours. You decide to celebrate with another honeyJack and Coke and the next Karkatless hour and a half slips away easily. 

He logs onto Pesterchum first and spews truly fearsome invective at you about his (admittedly bullshit) Intro to Java lab.

CG: IT’S JUST A TOTAL FUCKING CROCK THAT I COULDN’T TEST OUT OF IT. IT’S LIKE YES, BITCH, I FUCKING KNOW WHAT AN ARRAY IS. CAN I GO NOW BEFORE YOU WASTE EVEN MORE OF MY PRECIOUS PRECIOUS MINUTES?  
TA: ii know ii know  
TA: ii mean 2hiit. you 2hould be able two te2t out of that 2hiit iif you’re fuckiing liiterate  
CG: SO THEN THE FUCKING TA GETS ALL PISSYFACED AT ME LIKE “DON’T YOU BLOW OFF THIS ASSIGNMENT” AND I’M LIKE, “YOU KNOW WHAT, YOU CAN BLOW THIS.”  
CG: AND THAT’S WHEN I GOT KICKED OUT OF THE LAB.  
TA: that wa2 perhap2 not the be2t optiion for you there  
CG: I KNOW I KNOW.  
CG: BUT TWATNIBBLING DYKE PAJAMAS THAT CLASS IS SO STUPID.  
TA: agaiin your homophobiic commentary, though entertaiiniing, ii2 a biit offen2iive  
CG: SORRY.  
CG: BUT COME ON, YOU KNOW I DON’T MEAN IT.  
CG: I MEAN  
CG: IT’S NOT LIKE I HAVE ANYTHING AGAINST THE QUEERS.  
TA: briiilliiant choiice of word2 there, pube liice  
CG: FUCK.  
CG: NO, I MEAN  
CG: LOOK, IF I TELL YOU SOMETHING, CAN IT NOT CHANGE ANYTHING?  
TA: well iit hone2tly depend2 on what you want two tell me  
TA: how can ii know what you 2ay won’t change my whole fuckiing liife?  
CG: OKAY, I WAS WONDERING, BUT NOW I KNOW FOR SURE:  
CG: YOU’VE BEEN DRINKING.  
TA: yup. fiinii2hed a biig project  
CG: FUCKING DANDY AS TITS FOR YOU.  
CG: BUT SERIOUSLY  
CG: I CAN’T REALLY TELL ANYONE HERE.  
CG: SO CAN I MAYBE TELL YOU THIS WITHOUT YOU FREAKING OUT AND BAILING ON ME IN EVERYTHING FOREVER?  
TA: come on kk. ii’m not that much of a douchelord  
CG: YES YOU ARE, BUT THAT’S BESIDE THE POINT.  
CG: I USE ALL THE BULLSHIT GAY WORDS BECAUSE  
CG: I’M AN IDIOT.  
TA: oh goodne22, 2uch heart 2toppiing new2@  
CG: AND THAT’S WHY I DON’T EVER TELL YOU ANYTHING.  
TA: come on kk what ii2 iit. you know ii’m not gonna cha2e you around over thii2  
CG: FINE.  
TA: you 2tiill there?  
CG: YEAH JUST GIVE ME A FUCKING SECOND.  
CG: OKAY.  
CG: I THINK I MIGHT LIKE GUYS.  
CG: PLEASE DON’T HATE ME?  
CG: I CAN FIND ANOTHER HOTEL ROOM OR SOMETHING.  
TA: kk calm your tiit2  
TA: iit’2 fiine  
TA: you 2aiid you liike guy2, not that you wanna fuck me iintwo a mattre22  
TA: and even iif you had, ii’m not 2ure that that would be a deal breaker eiither  
CG: REALLY?  
CG: DID YOU REALLY HAVE TO GO THERE?  
TA: eheheh  
CG: SO MY ANSWER IS YES THEN.  
CG: YOU DID HAVE TO GO THERE.  
CG: AND WASTE PRECIOUS SECONDS OF MY LIFE.  
CG: THANK YOU.  
CG: SO MUCH.  
CG: IT MEANS SO MUCH TO ME.  
TA: but 2eriiou2ly iit’2 fiine iif you’re bii or gay or whatever  
TA: do you want two talk about iit or 2omethiing?  
CG: NOT FUCKING REALLY.  
CG: WAIT.  
CG: REWIND.  
CG: ARE YOU INTO DUDES OR SOMETHING TOO?  
TA: oh my god  
TA: really?  
TA: ii diidn’t want two beliieve iit, but ii’m 2orry kk  
TA: you are truly the grand hiigh emperor of iidiiot2  
TA: ye2 ii’m “iintwo dude2 or 2omethiing two”  
CG: OKAY HOW CAN YOU EVEN PUT THAT IN QUOTES?  
CG: THAT LOOKS NOTHING LIKE WHAT I SAID AT ALL.  
TA: clo2e enough  
CG: SO ARE WE DONE HERE?  
TA: ye2 quiite  
TA: ii do beliieve iit’2 your turn two piick the 2erver twoday?  
CG: DAMN RIGHT IT IS.  
CG: WE’RE GOING TO LOPAH BITCH.

It was definitely your day to pick the server, but since you can’t take the kid out to a nice dinner, you figure this is the least you can do. You remember when you had to come out to your parents before you brought your first boyfriend home. Dad didn’t like it at first, but Mom had taken you out to a nice dinner while he cooled down and, when you came back, you had an accepting father once again. You wish you could at least be there to take him out to Taco Bell or something, but he’s too skittish to even tell you what state he goes to school in, so he may as well live in Indonesia for all you know. So, you figure letting him pick the server is good enough until Con.

The headset chatter is pretty subdued today, with Karkat talking more about his daily goings-on than the actual game. You make a couple highlight reel-worthy save and he even throws you a compliment. You grin to yourself. This whole dick thing must have been a big fucking deal. You now feel pretty fucking important. You decide to reward yourself with another honeyJack and Coke after the match. Bless wireless headsets.


	3. Lithium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here, everyone, have an uncomfortably familiar scenario!

Fuck class. Fuck breadth requirements. Fuck roommates. Actually, fuck everything that isn’t the internet. You settle into the university-issued chair at your desk, relief washing over you when you see Sollux logged into Pesterchum. Not that you ever expect otherwise, but you appreciate the consistency. When he doesn’t leap at you after five minutes of being logged in, you furrow your brows. Shit’s weird.

CG: HEY.  
CG: I’M ONLINE ASSHOLE.  
CG: THIS IS USUALLLY THE PART WHERE YOU COME SLOBBER ALL OVER MY DICK AND BEG ME TO PLAY WITH YOU.  
CG: OR HAVE I FINALLY FINISHED MY COMMUNITY SERVICE HOURS AND THEY’VE TERMINATED MY CONTRACT?  
CG: DON’T GO INVISIBLE ON ME DOUCHEMUFFIN. WE BOTH KNOW YOU ORDER JIMMY JOHNS ON THURSDAYS, SO IT’S NOT LIKE YOU’RE AWAY AT DINNER.  
CG: FUCK YOU, YOU ASSHOLE. TALK TO ME.  
TA: what the fuck kk. leave me alone  
CG: HEY WHAT’S UP?  
TA: nothiing. ii 2aiid leave me alone  
CG: SOLLUX WHAT’S WRONG?  
CG: HEY.  
CG: SOLLUX COME ON.  
CG: I’M NOT JUST GOING TO LEAVE YOU LIKE THIS.  
CG: WHEN’S THE LAST TIME YOU TOOK YOUR MEDS?  
TA: none of your fuckiing bu2iine22  
CG: SOLLUX YOU KNOW HOW MUCH IT HELPS.  
TA: ii’m fuckiing fiine. iit wa2n’t doing 2hiit  
CG: SOLLUX ARE YOU REALLY FINE?  
CG: JUST TAKE A FEW DEEP BREATHS THEN GO TAKE YOUR MEDS.  
CG: I PROMISE YOU’LL FEEL BETTER.  
TA: fuck you you don’t know how ii feel  
TA: and ii am fiine thank2  
TA: ha2 iit occurred two your arrogant a22 that maybe ii ju2t don’t want two fuckiing talk two you?  
CG: COME ON SOLLUX, I DON’T THINK YOU REALLY MEAN THAT.  
CG: AT LEAST I REALLY HOPE YOU DON’T.  
CG: IF YOU’RE SO CONVINCED IT WON’T MAKE A DIFFERENCE, THEN PROVE ME WRONG.  
CG: IF YOU TAKE IT AND IT DOESN’T MAKE A DIFFERENCE THEN I’LL LEAVE YOU ALONE.  
TA: iit’2 not liike iit’2 goiing two kiick iin right away  
CG: YES I KNOW THAT, BUT IF I’M REALLY SO ANNOYING THEN ISN’T IT WORTH IT?  
CG: MAN WHO AM I KIDDING WITH "IF?"  
CG: I’M IRRITATING AS HELL.  
CG: WE BOTH KNOW IT.  
CG: BUT YOU SHOULD STILL TAKE YOUR MEDS SOLLUX.  
CG: SOLLUX?  
CG: ARE YOU FUCKING THERE?  
CG: SOLLUX I’M SORRY. SAY SOMETHING.  
TA: ii’m 2tiill here a22hole

It’s a battle for the next few hours, like it always is. He calls you horrible things, then he calls himself worse. He tries to just give up and make you go away, but you won’t. You can’t. He never leaves you and you can’t leave him. After a while, he’s apologizing and still miserable, but he’s done hating you, which is nice. Around 10, he asks if you want to play and you give him a hearty fuck yes.

TA: kk gue22 what  
CG: WHAT?  
TA: do you know what twoday ii2?  
CG: NO CLUE.  
CG: AND YOU ARE SERIOUSLY SCARILY ACUTE WITH THOSE FUCKING TWO PUNS.  
TA: eheheh iit’2 a giift and a cur2e  
TA: anyway  
TA: twoday’2 our anniiver2ary  
CG: ANNIVERSARY?  
CG: SOLLUX, THERE IS ABSOLUTELY NO POINT IN OUR CONJOINED LIVES THAT WAS IMPORTANT ON THIS DAY ONE YEAR AGO.  
CG: OR EVEN MULTIPLE YEARS AGO.  
CG: WE MET IN JUNE.  
CG: WE PLAYED TOGETHER FOR THE FIRST TIME IN JULY.  
CG: SERIOUSLY.  
CG: I’M AT A FUCKING LOSS HERE.  
TA: a2 of twoday we’ve haven’t left the top 10 player paiir2 for 365 day2  
CG: YOU’RE SHITTING ME.  
CG: REALLY?  
TA: hell ye2  
CG: FUCK.  
CG: WE ARE SO FUCKING AWESOME.  
TA: 2hiit yeah we are  
TA: let2 go kiick 2om2 a22  
CG: AS FUCKING USUAL.

You grin and tug your headset on. It’s time to continue a tradition of excellence. You push hard tonight, aggressively lashing out against anything that even points itself at Sollux. The other pair is dishing out a massive number of pawns, but- as you point out to Sollux numerous times- it’s a laughably shitty strategy and a waste of precious, precious grist. 

Some really ridiculous number of matches later, you finally admit that you could probably use some sleep, but only once Sollux seems one hundred percent level and you’ve gotten him to promise three separate times that he’ll call you if he feels the onset of another episode. He has the gummy sound of someone who’s been crying when he croaks out his good night. You fall asleep wondering what color his eyes are.


	4. Nature and Shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karkat's preconceptions are challenged a bit. Also, the boy should not be allowed on the internet.
> 
> Some drug references, I guess?   
> But this is already M, so suck it up, I guess?

You rock back and forth impatiently in your remarkably uncomfortable chair. Sollux is gone until late tonight and, while you had decided that this would be an excellent time to jack off, your roommate had other ideas. One of those brilliant gems was to invite six of his friends into your shared sardine can of a room for a “study party” that involved cracking a window, toweling the door, and breaking out an air purifier. You faked getting a text and moved to a study room, laptop and headset in hand. 

You twist your head away from the computer screen to stare out the window. The sky is gray. The road is gray. The residence halls surrounding yours are gray. The trees are barren and the lawn is crunchy and lifeless. Even when they’re in bloom, they’re still gray. The sidewalk is splattered with nerds hauling 50 pound backpacks home from their evening physics labs. You chew on your lip as you debate tucking your tail between your legs and shuffling back into your room to suck up second hand smoke.

Normally, you wouldn’t give two shits about being hotboxed by seven morons with phenomenally fuckawful weed. However, your roommate’s brought his hot friend around and you can’t trust yourself not to ask him to shotgun once you’re buzzed. Not wanting to risk any sort of accidental outing, you find yourself in a chair even less ergonomic than the one in your room. God fuck, this shit is worse than the furniture you put in your Sims’ house when you just want to catch the little bastards on fire. You’ve taken to calming yourself down by leaving Sollux angry snippets and death threats on his Pesterchum idle screen. 

Whittling your chumless time away, you wander to every corner of the internet as you avoid even looking at your Java homework. You bitch in some movie forums, play some solitaire, lose terribly at Robot Unicorn Attack, and even feed your Neopets before you guilt yourself into vomiting out the tediously simple code. You submit the assignment, then return to spending a truly embarrassing time coddling your Neopet, ADORABLOODTHIRSTY_613. It is the coolest fucking Jetsam in existence and anyone who disagrees with you can’t actually talk because their mouth is too full of dicks.

Hours later, his chumhandle finally lights up and you’re assailed with his gleeful yellow text. You want to be angry at him for being so perky while you’ve kicked yourself out of your room, but you’ll be damned if it isn’t nice to have someone to actively talk to again. He tells you he was out taking pictures with his old friend, Aradia, for a class of hers. You’re not entirely sure what kind of class she might be in where it would be beneficial to have a fat, sweaty, acne-ridden basement dweller take pictures of you. You tell him this and the stupid shit laughs at you. He tells you he was kind of creeped out because she had him running through a graveyard, draping over tombstones and leaning against mausoleums. You’re not sure how that all really lends itself to better pictures. You’re pretty sure photographers should have a stable footing or some shit, but it’s her class, so whatever. 

CG: YOUR FRIEND IS WEIRD.  
CG: WHAT WAS SHE EVEN GOING FOR?  
TA: well that’2 the mo2t flattering part  
TA: 2he wanted iit two look liike 2omeone clo2e two death communiing wiith theiir 2oon two be contemporariie2  
CG: SHE’S KIND OF CREEPY SOLLUX.  
CG: LIKE, WHOA.  
TA: well yeah but iit’2 a charmiing kiind of creepy  
TA: iit’2 ju2t how 2he ii2  
CG: DID THE PICTURES AT LEAST COME OUT NICE?  
CG: OR DO YOU FUCK UP EVERYTHING YOU TOUCH EVER?  
TA: well ii’m not 2ure but ii would thiink they’ll come out niice  
TA: 2o what are you up two?  
CG: AVOIDING THE FUCK OUT OF MY ROOM.  
TA: what’2 up?  
CG: STUDY PARTY.  
TA: thii2 ii2 becomiing a weekly thiing ii2n’t iit?  
CG: YUP.  
CG: AND NORMALLY I DON’T GIVE ENOUGH SHITS TO LEAVE, BUT MY USELESS SHITSTAIN OF A ROOMMATE IS STARTING TO ASK WHY I NEVER HAVE ANYONE OVER AND HIS HOT FRIEND CAME BY AND  
CG: I DIDN’T FEEL LIKE GETTING OUTED TO THIS BIGOTED ASS MOTHERFUCKER JUST YET, SO I’M IN A STUDY ROOM.  
TA: well that 2uck2  
TA: iit’2 2hiitty when you feel liike you’ve got two hiide 2hiit  
CG: YEAH, WHATEVER, SENTIMENTAL SHIT BLAH BLAH.  
TA: eheheh yeah ii gue22  
TA: hey only two week2 untiil Con  
TA: maybe ii can 2how you the piicture2 then?  
CG: YEAH, THAT WOULD BE COOL.  
TA: hey  
TA: ju2t two week2 untiil you get a break from 2enor douchecanoe  
CG: DID I ASK FOR PITY?  
CG: OH WAIT I FUCKING DIDN’T.  
CG: LET’S BASH SOME HEADS IN AND SHIT.  
TA: eheheh yeah 2ound2 good  
CG: SERIOUSLY.  
CG: THIS FEELINGS SHIT HAS GOT TO QUIT.  
CG: WE PLAY A GAME ON THE INTERNET.  
TA: you’re an odd duck kk  
CG: FUCK YOU, I AM PERFECTLY FUCKING FINE.

For the first time since you met him, your notion of Sollux as a pimply, greasy lard-ass with a ponytail and receding hairlineliving in his mother’s basement is questioned. You shake it off, but that night, your dreams are full of a tall, slender, graceful ghost boy with a lisp.


	5. And Then the Sun Came Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karkat no. Why do we let you near the booze?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. On the bright side, I'm ridiculously pleased with this chapter.   
> Also, are you guys going back and reading my older stories or something? They're getting hits again out of fucking nowhere.

Your phone buzzes angrily at you from underneath your pillow. You slide your glasses on and blink hard a few times before pulling it out. Pesterchum blinks an obnoxious orange and you feel your gut sink. You know who it is and, at this hour, you’re pretty sure it can’t be good.

CG: I AM FUCKED.  
CG: ACTUALLY, DISREGARD THAT.  
CG: I AM NOT FUCKED. I AM IN A SPECIAL, MYSTICAL PLACE THAT LIES BEYOND FUCKED.  
CG: I’M IN A MAGICAL, GORY PLAYGROUND WHERE EVERY SINGLE ORIFICE ON ME IS FUCKED.  
CG: I HAVE REACHED FUCKED NIRVANA.  
CG: I HAVE ASCENDED TO A PLANE WHERE EVERY FIBER OF MY BEING IS BLANKETED WITH AGGRAVATED GENITALIA  
TA: kk iit’2 6 iin the morning what the hell?  
CG: I JUST MADE A TRULY IMPRESSIVE STRING OF ABSOFUCKINGTERRIBLE LIFE CHOICES AND, AS A RESULT, WILL NOT BE SLEEPING IN MY ROOM TONIGHT.  
CG: I AM NEVER FUCKING TOUCHING AN INTOXICANT EVER AGAIN. I AM SUCH AN ASSHAT. I HAVE SERIOUSLY JUST RUINED THE MAJORITY OF MY FUCKING LIFE.  
CG: SON OF A BITCH. I NEED A CIGARETTE.  
TA: ii thought you quiit  
CG: DOESN’T MEAN I DON’T FUCKING WANT ONE.  
CG: SHIT. I AM SO FUCKING STUPID.  
TA: a2 lovely a2 iit ii2 two watch you berate your2elf, ii’d really liike two know what happened  
TA: e2peciially iif you’re wakiing me up two tell me  
CG: SHIT FUCK SHIT OKAY.  
CG: SO AS WE ESTABLISHED:  
CG: MY ROOMMATE IS A BIGOTED PISSGUZZLING ASSWIPE  
CG: AND HE HAS A VERY HOT FRIEND.  
TA: oh 2hiit kk…  
CG: YOU’RE BRIGHT FOR A MOUTHBREATHER, SO I’M SURE YOU SEE WHERE THIS IS GOING.  
CG: SO I WAS IN A REALLY HAPPY DRUNK PLACE.  
CG: I’M SURE YOU’RE FAMILIAR WITH IT.  
TA: oh ye2. ye2 ii am eheheh  
CG: I WAS AT THIS HUGE ASS PARTY AND MY ROOMMATE AND ALL HIS STUDY BUDDIES WERE THERE TOO.  
CG: SO WAS MY EX AND THE AUTISTIC CAT GIRL WITH A THING FOR ME BUT THAT ISN’T IMPORTANT UNTIL LATER.  
TA: oh my 2hiit kk what have you done?  
CG: ACTUALLY, NO. I’M GOING TO TELL THIS GODDAMNED STORY IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER.  
CG: COINCIDENTALLY, CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER IS THE SAME AS FUCKED-NIRVANA ASCENSION ORDER.  
CG: SO SOME WAY OR ANOTHER, MY EX FINDS ME AT THIS FUCKING PARTY. I HAVE NO IDEA HOW. SHE’S FUCKING BLIND. SHE SITS ME DOWN AND WE CATCH UP FOR A FEW MINUTES, SINCE I DIDN’T THINK SHE WAS A RAGING BITCH UNTIL AFTER THIS WHOLE ORDEAL.   
CG: WE’RE TALKING FOR ABOUT FIVE MINUTES WHEN SHE BRINGS UP HER SHINY NEW BLONDEY BLONDE BOYFRIEND AND, SINCE SHE’S COMPLETELY PLASTERED OFF HER ASS, I GET TO HEAR ABOUT THE FUCKING SEX, TOO.  
CG: I DIDN’T BOTHER TO STICK AROUND AND FIND OUT WHETHER OR NOT HER NEW FUCKSTICK’S BETTER IN THE SACK THAN ME, BUT I’M PRETTY SURE IT WAS IMPLIED.  
CG: GOT ANOTHER DRINK OR FOUR AND THEN CATGIRL COMES TIPTOEING AROUND THE CORNER AND PUTS ME IN THIS MONSTER CHOKEHOLD.  
CG: TRUTHFULLY, IT PROBABLY WOULD HAVE BEEN ADORABLE IF THE WORLD WASN’T SPINNING.  
CG: BUT THAT WAS DECIDEDLY NOT THE CASE.  
CG: AT THIS POINT, I WAS PISSED OFF AND DRUNK AND I’VE BEEN HAVING THESE WEIRD DREAMS LATELY, SO I JUST KIND OF…  
CG: KISSED THE FUCK OUT OF HER.  
TA: oh my god kk no. how drunk were you?  
CG: SHUT UP. IT WASN’T THAT BAD AT ALL UNTIL HER FRIEND WHO I DON’T UNDERSTAND HOW THEY’RE NOT DATING BECAUSE OH MY FUCK, REALLY? DOES SHE JUST WILLFULLY NOT NOTICE HOW DEVOTED HE IS TO HER? COMES UP AND PULLS ME OFF OF HER. I AM NOW SPORTING AN IRISH MONOCLE.  
TA: 2hiit are you alriight?  
CG: NO.  
CG: I WOULD BE WEARING IRISH SUNGLASSES, BUT I WAS TOO DRUNK TO KEEP STANDING AFTER ONE PUNCH, SO I DODGED THE SECOND ONE WITH HELP FROM GRAVITY.  
CG: AND WOULDN’T YOU KNOW WHICH BASTARD JUST HAD TO HELP ME UP?  
TA: oh god, ii don’t think you under2tand. iit hurt2 two even read thii2  
CG: ROOMMATE’S HOT FRIEND.  
CG: AS IT TURNS OUT, HE THINKS ASSHOLES WITH BLOODY NOSES AND BLACK EYES ARE CUTE. FIVE MINUTES LATER, I’M IN HIS LAP. TEN MINUTES LATER, I CAN’T FIND MY SHIRT AND MY ROOMMATE IS SCREAMING THAT HE CAN’T LIVE WITH A FUCKING FAGGOT.   
CG: HE’S GOT A MEETING SCHEDULED WITH THE HEAD OF RES LIFE TOMORROW TO GET ME KICKED OUT OF THE ROOM.

You sit up and frown. You’re not sure whether you should be giving him a shoulder to cry on or congratulating him for being able to get away from such a repulsive asshole. You hold your phone to your chest because, for the moment, that’s the best you can do. You stare at the screen again for just a moment before wandering through some stupid response.

TA: well ii gue22 that ii2n’t two bad ii2 iit?  
CG: WHAT?  
TA: well iif he triie2 two kiick you out of the room, you can jump all over hii2 a22 for homophobiia and dii2criimiinatiion and even iif you are kiicked out of the room you 2tiill don’t have two liive wiith the liittle 2hiit anymore  
CG: YEAH.  
CG: YOU’RE RIGHT.  
CG: YOU KNOW WHAT?  
CG: TONIGHT WAS AWESOME.  
CG: ASIDE FROM BREAKING MY NOSE AGAIN AND GETTING A BLACK EYE, THAT IS.  
CG: OH FUCK, I HOPE THIS SHIT HEALS BEFORE CON.  
CG: OH SHIT FUCK DAMMIT GODDAMMIT OH MAN FUCK.  
TA: that “oh man” doe2n’t quiite fiit iin wiith the re2t of your 2entence  
CG: SHUT UP.  
TA: what’2 wrong now?  
CG: NO, YOU’LL LAUGH.  
TA: kk ii alway2 laugh at you  
CG: FAIR POINT.  
CG: DOUCHEBAG.  
CG: I WAS KIND OF MAYBE POSSIBLY GOING TO TRY OUT COSPLAY AND A BLACK EYE IS NOT EXACTLY FUCKING CONDUCIVE TO THE ACCURATE REPRESENTATION OF THIS FUCKING CHARACTER.  
TA: oh my god that ii2 the cute2t thiing ii’ve ever heard  
CG: SHUT.  
CG: THE FUCK.  
CG: UP.  
CG: YOU ARE A HORRIBLE PERSON AND I HONESTLY CANNOT FATHOM WHY WE ARE FRIENDS.  
TA: becau2e ii re2pond two your 6 am text2  
CG: SORRY.  
CG: SHIT, I’M SORRY. YOU’RE A BETTER FRIEND THAN I DESERVE AND I TREAT YOU LIKE TOTAL SHIT.  
TA: kk don’t worry about iit  
CG: NO. I’M GOING TO WORRY ABOUT IT. I AM MAJOR GENERAL ASSCANOE AND YOU ARE PRIVATE DISPLAYSOFKINDNESSANDCONCERN IN THIS RIDICULOUSLY BUREAUCRATIC ARMY KNOWN AS FRIENDSHIP.  
TA: friiend2hiip ii2n’t an army fucknut2  
TA: al2o you are 2tiill drunk  
CG: NOT DRUNK.  
CG: MAYBE TIPSY. 

You laugh and lay back down, curling around your phone as you type your responses. Excitement pools in your gut and you can feel the seconds until you get to give your best bro a noogie slipping away. They move too slow, but you’re pretty sure you can handle a week. He tells you his nose kind of feels like raw hamburger and how different this was from the first time he broke his nose. You wonder what shape his nose must have grown into and the sun peeks in through your window.


	6. Social Work Sorcery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intoducting the new freind...
> 
> Also, getting Karkat to think is hard. It really is.

There’s a hesitant tapping at your door and you hop from your seat.

“Hey, corpsewatch for me. Roommate’s at the door.”

“Fuck fuck fuck KK no! Not now!”

You pull the door open and your new roommate grins up at you, sheepishly, before wheeling himself inside. You offer back what you hope is a smile, though you’re not quite sure what your face is doing as you shut the door and leap back to your chair. Your Knight is a pile of dead as Sollux’s Mage sprints around you frantically, trying to keep the vulture minions from ganking your gear.

“Oh my shit, Sollux, I was LITERALLY gone for less than ten seconds. You could not keep your shit scraped together for a buffalo-fucking FRACTION of a minute? I think I actually would have lived longer had you IGNORED ME.”

Tavros chuckles behind you as he hefts himself onto his bed. You hear him rustle around and get situated and you smile a bit at the sigh he makes when he’s just right. You’re pretty sure you couldn’t possibly have a less shitty roommate.

“Why did you even have to thtop when your roommate came in? Doeth thith athh hole demand you bow or thome shit?”

“What? No. He doesn’t- He’s- Fuck you. It’s not even any of your fucking business!”

“Oh god, ith it the oppothite? Ith he your boyfriend now? Shit, that wath fatht.”

“Fuck you, dicknibble!”

“I mean, shit! Three dayth you’ve lived with him now? That’th gotta be true love. Or at leatht fantathtic thex.”

You flush, not daring to so much as glance at your paraplegic roommate now that you’ve had the image of sleeping with him thrust on you. You shudder at your choice of verbs and return to glaring at the screen, begging your Knight to fucking respawn already, goddamn shit fuck bleachguzzling fucktwat. He refuses to comply, another 12 seconds of death still required of him.

“Oh my fuck, Sollux, are you jealous or some shit? And no! He’s taken. Happily.” Tavros chuckles behind you.

“I, uhm… I guess you’re talking about me over there?”

“Shit. Sorry, my asshole partner decided to hop in his douchecanoe and paddle upstream along the shit-clogged Bastard River-“ He cuts you off with giggles. 

“It’s fine. I’m happily dating and you’re… more happily roommated.”

“Did you hear that, assnugget?”

“Good for him, but that thtill doethn’t ekthplain why you have to jump every time he cometh in- “

“We’ll talk about it later. Now would you mind doing your job? You’re over there shoveling elephant shit or whatever while their Prince is gathering a fuckton of grist. A bit of cacheDrain would be nice right about now.”

“I’m fucking aware, I jutht figured it wath your job ath my Active to lead the charge againtht the thecond motht powerful Active. Thankth.”

Behind you, Tavros begins what you’ve come to understand is the nightly Skype call to his boyfriend. He murmurs about friends and classes and the big social work internship he nabbed that he’s really proud of and worked so hard for. You smile. You’re pretty sure it’s literally impossible to have a kinder roommate than Tav. 

Sollux is rather complicit, not questioning any order you bark out. You think it might be to get you to talk about Tavros more, but it’s not going to fucking work. Still, under the glistening banner of your nearly flawless leadership, the two of you add five more tallies to the collection of wins for Team SunLion. He signs off rather early, despite your weak protests. He refuses to stay up too late on the nights before he visits his creepy ghost totally-not-his girlfriend. You shut your laptop and hear the polite clearing of a throat behind you. You twist to face Tavros and find him with an odd sort of curious smile on his face.

“So, you seem pretty tight with your partner. How long have you been together?”

“Fffff-shit, I dunno? More than a year, though.” That is a lie. You have the day you first chatted with Sollux marked on your calendar, as well as the day of your first match together.

“Oh, wow! Goodness, he must be… quite the find!”

“Jesus tits, you have no idea.” The honesty bubbles up from you. This has to be why Tavros is going to be a social worker. It’s impossible to keep anything from him for long. “He plays off of me perfectly. He fills in all of the massive gaps I leave because I’m a massive fuck up and that’s just how he likes it. He actually fucking likes the things he has to do to clean up my messes, like a housewife with fucking shit on her hands and a smile on her face. He has this amazing understanding of the climate of a situation and what exactly is going on and he makes these fantastic plans just from that…” You’re rambling, but you feel as though you need to tell SOMEONE how fantastic Sollux is as a partner, since you sure as hell can’t tell HIM that. “God, and just the ridiculous forethought to his character build! It’s like he already knows what drops I’m going to get before the item even exists or some shit. It’s like puzzle pieces…”

You stare at the wall just over Tavros’ shoulder, unable to quite meet his eyes. His face sort of falls toward the end of your rambling, then it twists itself. You frown, concerned, until he bubbles over into a fit of giggles. 

“What? What the hell?”

“I… I’m sorry, I just… I think I misunderstood you at first. He sounds like a great partner, Karkat.”

What? How did he misunder-

Oh.

Oh.

“What? Wait, what? Tav, no, it’s fucking NOTHING like tha-“

“He sounds like a great partner, Karkat. Now how about you get some sleep?”

Your head is spinning. You don’t like this one bit. You do your best to shake off the notion that this is some sort of social work sorcery and mumble a good night as your crawl into the heap of pillows you call “bed.”

The floaty, skinny ghost douche in your dreams is back. Tonight, he walks with you through a forest and you get the feeling that, were he to speak, he might have a lisp.


	7. Packing List

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Computer nerds are awkward. Never forget.

\--FILE TRANSFER packiinglii2t.jpg—  
CG: WHAT THE SHIT IS THIS?  
TA: are you fuckiing liiterate?  
CG: OKAY, SO WHY THE ARMPIT-FUCKING TITS ARE YOU SENDING THIS TO ME?  
TA: ok that one kiind of ran away from you there  
CG: SO IT DID. MY BAD.  
TA: have you not 2een your fuckiing calendar twoday? con ii2 iin two day2  
CG: OH GOD, YOU MUST BE ABSOLUTELY JIZZING IN YOUR SWEATPANTS RIGHT NOW.  
TA: you have no iidea  
CG: REALLY?  
CG: NOW I’M VOMITING.  
CG: FUCKING BILE EVERYWHERE AND IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT, CAPTOR.  
TA: beautiful  
TA: 2o  
TA: 2o thii2 roommate of your2 that youre apparently not fuckiing, though iim not 2ure ii beliieve that  
CG: OH MY GOD.  
CG: YOU MISERABLE, PUCKERED, SRIRACHA-SLATHERED ASSHOLE.  
TA: gro22 and al2o over the line  
CG: YOU WANNA KNOW WHY I GET UP WHEN HE’S AT THE DOOR, PUBE TWEEZER?  
CG: HE’S FUCKING PARAPLEGIC.  
CG: AS IN WHEEL CHAIR.  
CG: AS IN THAT FOUR-WHEELED DEVICE USED FOR CONVEYANCE BY THOSE WHO HAVE HAD SOMETHING HAPPEN THAT MADE THEIR LIFE AND LEGS SIGNIFICANTLY SHITTIER.  
CG: I GET UP WHEN HE’S AT THE DOOR SO HE DOESN’T HAVE TO BACK INTO IT AND ROLL HIMSELF IN BACKWARDS OR WHATEVER THE HELL HE WAS DOING BEFORE.  
TA: …  
TA: there are 2eriiou2ly not word2 for how much of an a22 ii feel liike riight now  
TA: 2hiit ii am 2o 2orry kk  
TA: iif ii would have known ii wouldn’t have 2aiid that 2hiit ii’m 2orry  
CG: NO, YOU STILL WOULD HAVE IMPLIED WE WERE FUCKING, YOU JUST WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN SO PERSISTANT.  
TA: …  
TA: yeah  
TA: 2hiit 2o are we…  
CG: STILL FRIENDS.  
CG: AND I’M STILL IRRATIONALLY EXCITED FOR CON.  
CG: BY THE WAY, ARE YOU DOING ANY COSPLAY OR AM I GOING TO JUST LOOK LIKE A FUCKING TOOL?  
TA: you are goiing two look liike a fuckiing tool, but ii’ll be doiing 2ome co2 two  
CG: WHAT OF?  
TA: fuck you. iif ii don’t get two know your2 you don’t get two know miine  
CG: UGH FINE.  
CG: HEY ARE ANY OF YOUR FRIENDS GOING?  
TA: not anymore  
TA: aa wa2 goiing two come but 2he got roped iintwo 2ome huge project  
CG: IS SHE THE ONE THAT’S YOUR CREEPY GHOST GIRLFRIEND  
TA: …   
TA: oh my god ii have two tell her you 2aiid that  
TA: kk you have no fuckiing clue how hiilariiou2 that ii2  
CG: FUCK YOU, YOU CONFUSING BASTARD.  
CG: WHAT ABOUT LITTLE MISS URBAN SWIMMER PRINCESS?  
TA: you mean ff?  
TA: actually, how about we ju2t not worry about my love liife.  
TA: my friiend2 aren’t goiing two be there  
TA: thii2 iinclude2 any of my exe2  
TA: and iit would be 2uper 2well iif we could ju2t not talk about them  
CG: YIKES.  
CG: SORRY.  
TA: youre fiine  
TA: neiither of u2 are really on top of our beiing not 2hiitty friiend2 game twoday eheheh  
CG: YEAH.  
CG: I GUESS I’M GOING TO GO PACK NOW OR SOME SHIT, SINCE I AM COMPLETELY AND IRREVOCABLY A SOCIAL FUCK UP AND SEEM HELLBENT ON PROVING IT TODAY?  
TA: 2ound2 liike a good plan  
TA: let me know iif you need me two briing you anythiing  
TA: ok let me rephra2e that  
TA: ii iintend on gettiing 2hiitty drunk at lea2t one night of con iif that2 ok wiith you  
CG: HALF OF OUR COMMUNICATIONS ARE CARRIED OUT WITH YOU SHITTY DRUNK. WHY WOULD I MIND SEEING IT LIVE?  
TA: beautiiful. thank2  
TA: not that ii condone underage driinkiing  
CG: DRAGONBERRY RUM  
TA: but do you want me two get you anythiing?  
TA: oh  
TA: that wa2 decii2iive  
CG: I WILL PAY YOU IN SPADES.  
CG: THAT SHIT TASTES LIKE PINK STARBURSTS.  
CG: AND RUM.  
CG: WHICH IS THE BEST COMBINATION SINCE ROMANCE AND COMEDY.  
TA: you are 2o dumb  
TA: iit’2 adorable  
TA: alriight go pack a22hole  
CG: I’M ON IT, SACKLICKER.  
TA: and have the 2weete2t of dream2 cock2ucker  
CG: ONLY IF I DREAM OF YOU, CUNTMUNCH  
TA: we 2eem to have 2ome 2ort of oral 2ex fiixatiion iin our iin2ult2 twoniight  
CG: ODD.  
CG: ANYWAY, SO YEAH.  
CG: PACKING NOW.  
TA: FUDGE packiing  
TA: eheheh  
CG: FUCK THE FUCK OUT OF YOU.

You grin at your computer screen as Karkat signs off. So it wasn’t the smoothest of converstations. You take comfort in the knowledge that he’s excited for Con, even if it’s not necessarily for the same reason you are. You’re abuzz with anticipation, wondering what he looks like; if he looks at all like he sounds. He’s probably short, with frazzled hair to match his nerves. You wonder if he has freckles. You tilt back in your chair and he signs off for the night, bidding a less-than-fond farewell.

From the corner of your room, some brassy bands with stars on them wink at you in the light of your monitor and you grin. Two days suddenly feels far too long to wait for KK to see that costume.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to make myself a timeline for this hunk of junk, so I thought I'd share it with you thus far:  
> MMOBOUND TIMELINE  
> 1- ONE MONTH  
> 2- 3 WEEKS + 6 DAYS   
> 3- 3 WEEKS   
> 4- TWO WEEKS  
> 5- ONE WEEK  
> 6- FOUR DAYS  
> 7- TWO DAYS


	8. Not What I Had in Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> IRL is scary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This feels a little bit more discombobulated than other chapters. 
> 
> Also, making the formal challenge: Anyone who can correctly guess who Sollux and/or Karkat are cosplaying as will win a little drabbley thing to be discussed via tumblr, so as not to comment spam. I've only left one clue for Sollux and it was vague as hell and there have been no clues for Karkat, so good luck?

You stretch mightily as you haul your ass out of your piece of shit car. Staring up at the hotel, butterflies stir up in you for about the millionth time in the past three hours. You haul your suitcase out of your trunk, popping the handle to roll the heavy son of a bitch. Hotel staff is overly friendly with you, walking up and nearly begging you to let them help. Everyone in the lobby watches you carefully from the corners of their eyes, not daring to be caught looking. You’re only mystified for a moment, before remembering you’re an angry brown guy traveling alone with a big damn suitcase. 

Once tucked in the safety of the elevator, you check, double check, triple check the room number Sollux texted you and your stomach does flip flops. Any and all possible variations of what he could look like flash before your eyes. Color-swapped variations on greasy, fat men with ponytails march proudly by and occasionally, a thinner one with worse acne hides among them. The elevator pings and you stumble onto the sixth floor. 

You trudge down the hall, acutely aware of how loud your suitcase’s wheels scrape against the carpet. You’re at room 612 entirely too soon and you check the text again, just in case. Gulping down an entirely too convincing threat of vomit, you knock solidly at the door twice. After a moment, it swings wide and there stands

The exact opposite of what you were expecting.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry, I must have the wrong room- I am so sorry, I-“

“KK?”

Oh shit. That’s Sollux?

_That_ is Sollux? That six-foot-doesn’t-matter, fit and slim, well-groomed and maybe even stylish cool glass of water is _Sollux_?

You need to lie down.

“You’re… Sollux?”

“Eheheh, yeah? Am I not what you had in mind? Thorry about that-“

“Fuck, it’s fucking fine. Better than fine, I just… You’re thin?”

“And you’re brown? I imagined a ginger, with all your rage.”

“And I told you exactly what I was expecting. Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“I had no idea how theriouth you were!” Oh god, that lisp is so much more okay when it isn’t muffled with a microphone. “Pluth, what good would it have done me?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s … yeah. So can I come in?”

Not waiting for an answer, you slug him in the arm and push past him to claim the bed that isn’t already covered in various Sollux-possessions. He sits across from you, apparently trying to soak up every detail of you in one go.

“You’re shorter than I imagined.”

“And you’re more of an asshole in real life.”

“Eheheh, hey , I never thaid it wath a bad thing!”

“Since when is being short good?”

“Since I can just tuck you under my chin or some shit. You’re fucking adorable.”

“Augh, I fucking hate that word. Can you not?”

“Fine, dickprinthe.”

“Much better. By the way, 3D glasses aren’t cool anymore. You look like some little teenybopper poser fresh from Hot Topic.”

“Oh shut up, like you weren’t a Hot Topic kid until like latht Monday!”

“Fuck off!” You frown and lunge across the gap between the beds, swiping at his glasses. Your arm tangles with his longer one and you wind up bouncing from his mattress onto the floor. You lunge again and this time, he’s caught off guard by your persistence. He really shouldn’t be, though. It’s something of a defining trait. You manage to knock them down his nose and behind the mismatched lenses, you find

That you were so totally wrong when you tried to guess what color his eyes were. 

One red-brown eye and its near-colorless-blue match squint and glare at you.

“Goddamn, I haven’t been right about anything about you yet.”

He shoves his glasses back up his nose and his cheeks color. “And what were you ekthpecting there?”

“Honestly? Hazel.”

“Huh. You would pick the one I can’t thay.”

“Basically.”

You sit half in his lap, scrutinizing the foreign face of your closest friend: the sharp cheekbones and long nose, the thin lips and thin brows, the deep and dark brown of his hair and the way it stalks his jaw with sideburns. He reaches up to you with alarmingly long hands and you aren’t sure if you like the way he touches your skin like it’s a treasure. You tap at his shoulders, still unconvinced that he’s quite real, that he’s the Sollux you antagonize daily over the internet, that he’s the best friend you’ve ever had and never seen. Wiry arms twist around your middle and when you squeeze him back, months and months of your life feel validated. 

“Okay, this is getting a bit gay,” you blurt, pulling back. 

“Heh. Eheheh, yeah maybe a bit." He gets up and walks to the mini-fridge. He wears the grace of someone who had to fight to grow into their body. With the ease and flourish of a game show hostess, he reveals what is behind door number one: alcohol. You swing your arms out, grasping fistfuls of air. “Nono,” he tuts, “Not until the firtht night after Con.”

“Not even one? Or three?”

“Nope.”

“But Thirsty Thursday-“

“Honethtly, I’m rationing. I have enough for two nightth of awethome drinking or three nightth of mediocre. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather thpend a night thober, catching up, than getting kind of almotht buthhed.Or worthe, drinking too much tonight and not having enough for Thaturday night-“

“Okay, Jesus fuck, I get it. We’ll be a right regular pair of fucking Sober Saliies. It’ll be fucking beautiful.”

“Awethome. Tho, I have a quethtion.”

“Shoot.”

“Don’t you have clathh tomorrow?”

“Didn’t I pay for a badge for the full weekend?”

Sollux laughs and turns the TV on. He settles onto his bed and you stay there because fuck him, you aren’t moving. He settles on Mythbusters and it makes you feel a bit better because, as surreal as the past fifteen minutes have been, you’re at least positive he’s a human being now. You flop back against the pillows and he follows you. Somewhere in the explosions and the science and the cars crashing, the back of your hand finds the back of his and his pinky catches yours. You aren’t sure what it’s supposed to mean, but you’re pretty sure it’s okay.


	9. Not Papa Johns, Uncle Juans.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exactly how much are you allowed to like your best friend in the first hour of meeting him? Because Sollux is pretty sure he's past that.

You’ve just finished hanging up your cosplays up in the closet when you hear two angry bangs at the door. You grin and nearly slam the sliding door closed, dashing to peek through the tiny peephole. Catching nothing but an unruly tuft of black hair, you swing the door open wide. 

In front of you stands a flustered and uncomfortable kid clinging to his suitcase handle like it’s going to save his life. The wild black hair you saw frames his face in a feral halo and thick, matching brows are twisted in dismay. They stand stark against his skin, its native red-brown having taken a sunless fade. He worries a full lip and you catch yourself just staring at him. 

“Oh shit, I’m sorry, I must have the wrong room- I am so sorry, I-“

Oh god, he’s just ranting.

“KK?” You cut him off, eyes wide. The anxious kid cuts his mumbling and stares at you like he’s not sure you’re really there.

“You’re… Sollux?” You feel a grin spread across your face.

“Eheheh, yeah? Am I not what you had in mind? Thorry about that-“

“Fuck, it’s fucking fine. Better than fine, I just… You’re thin?” Your hands drift to your waist and your brow furrows. 

“And you’re brown? I imagined a ginger, with all your rage.”

Karkat rages and roils at you, but you’re only half paying attention to the words you toss to him. You’re more concerned with the unconventional brand of handsome your vitriolic best friend manages to wear so well. He slugs your arm as he shoves past you and you don’t miss the inches you have on him or _Sweet Jesus, his ass._ He settles on a bed and you try to pull as much of him in as possible. His blunt button nose wrinkles at you and eyes the color of your favorite whiskey tear right through everything they sweep across. He’s compact, but under his baggy university hoodie, you get hints of coiled muscle that you suddenly burn to know how he built. Stray hair falls into his face and his knocks it aside with a whistling puff of breath. 

You shudder and reign yourself in. You still aren’t sure just how old he is, and you definitely know that internet bros do not get described in romance novel purple prose. This is someone who comes to you in friendship and you need to nip this ridiculous wanting in the bud.

“You’re shorter than I imagined.” 

Oh yes, good, Sollux. Perfect. 

He spits more venom at you and, watching how he gnashes his teeth, he looks like he actually chews his words. You start back in with your usual half-flirting rapport and you slip again.

“You’re fucking adorable.”

Aw shit, really? Fucking really? Sollux, you need to get a handle on this shit. You are a mess and you are just out of control. You recover and relax, poking a bit at him. You almost expect it when he lunges like a hellcat.

The first time, that is. 

When he springs back from the floor, he almost manages to knock your glasses clean off. You glare, bewildered, with your mismatched freak eyes. He cocks his head and his mouth falls open just the barest margin.

“Goddamn, I haven’t been right about anything about you yet.”

You kind of wonder just how far that statement reaches. You shove your glasses back up your nose, grateful for a shield from his terrifyingly intense eyes. He pokes fun at your lisp a bit, but doesn’t move from his half-straddle over one of your thighs. He stares at you like he’s willing you to make sense, but he isn’t even sure if you’re real. 

His eyes trace the shape of your face and you get lost in the power of him. Your hand drifts up to his arm and you just have to touch the paradoxically light-dark skin. Your touch is more reverent than you meant to imply, fingertips ghosting over like an archaeologist with a delicate treasure. His face twists a bit again and he drums his fingers on your shoulders, testing the tension there. 

You slide your hands under his arms to thread around his waist and it’s smaller than you thought it would be. His hands suddenly dart behind your back and powerful arms squeeze at your shoulders. His hair is against your cheek and it’s coarse and smells like the cheapest of cheap shampoos. 

Sooner than you would quite prefer, he jumps back with some stupid gay comment and you’re back to covering your ass. He’s barking a laugh and, as you fight thoughts that it’s the best sound in the world, guilt washes over you for continuing this romanticizing of your best friend. You show him your truly sweet booze haul, stopping to lecture on conservation and drinking when there’s something to drink to. He rolls his eyes and sighs, typical kid.

Suddenly, you find yourself concerned with something completely different. He’s a student. A university student. It’s Thursday night. 

“Don’t you have clathh tomorrow?”

“Didn’t I pay for a badge for the full weekend?”

You laugh it off, but on top of your already present shame, the weight of being a terrible influence weighs heavy on your shoulders. He needs to go to class and do his homework and ace tests and do well and succeed and… And… And you’d really like to see him get more for himself than he seems to have been given. 

You chew on your lip as you settle back onto your bed. He doesn’t move and the defiance plain on his face informs you that he doesn’t intend to. You sigh and he flings himself violently at the plush heap of pillows. You tilt yourself back after him after you’ve found Mythbusters on the hotel cable.

His eyes are saucers as science explodes on the television screen. He is beyond enthralled and it’s invigorating just to see. Every boom is a chuckle. Every equation is a twist of the brow. He unreservedly grins at the bizarre machinations and, open as his face is, you find yourself watching it instead of a mustachioed man lacing spam with pop rocks. It occurs to you just how little you’ve been getting from his walls of gray text this whole time, when his face can say so much in silence. 

In some earth-shattering kaboom, his hand gets pressed against the back of yours. It gives you a stupid thrill and you stare for just a second. You have no idea what’s going on, but you figure it can’t hurt to hook your pinky finger with his. The corners of his mouth quirk up just a little farther and a bit of color tints his cheeks. You feel a bit less guilty for your wanting. 

There’s a peace between the two of you, lasting silent until it comes time to divvy up shifts in the bathroom and figure out dinner. Even then, easiness twines itself between the two of you like a cat between ankles. 

For dinner, he wants the shittiest pizza he can find. 

The smile you get is worth the gallons of grease.


	10. A Piece of Conceptual Genius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens after dinner

Pizza is, beyond all shadow of a doubt, the best thing ever. Sollux picks at his slice with delicate fingers, disdain plain on his face. Fuck him, though. You are happier than a bird with a fucking French fry. He chucks a roll of paper towels at you and you, in turn, throw the tiny bucket of garlic sauce at him. Grinning into the dripping cheese, you convince yourself you’ve won and return to pizza heaven.

He would never believe you, but this shit is still better than what you order on campus.

You stuff your face with grease-slathered slices of heaven. In compliance with your less than polite wishes, Sollux footed the bill for two large pizzas. You wanted Meat-Lovers, he wanted BBQ Chicken, neither of you wanted Compromise. Behind you, the TV was now on the History Channel, buzzing something about how Hitler was both a member of the Illuminati and the great-great-grandson of Mary Magdalene, while also being an alien. As the program draws to a close, Sollux speaks up.

“Right, tho thethe shower thingth?”

“First dibs.”

“Ekthcuthe you?”

“I call first shower.”

“I jutht paid for the fucking pittha!”

“And now you’re being a bitch. I get first fucking shower.”

“You are a complete and utter dickmuffin.”

“Dickmuffin, huh?”

“Yeah, it’th what’th for dethhert.”

Color hits your cheeks and you scowl. Yup, it’s time for that there shower now, yup. You dig through your bag for sweatpants and slam the bathroom door behind you.

Asshole fucking dickbastard douchcanoe. Who the fuck does he think he is, calling you dessert? Rat bastard cuntmuch cockwrangler. Doesn’t he have any fucking idea how hard he’s making all this on you already, not being the nasty monstrosity you expected him to be? Snotrag dicktickling ballsucker. Tavros’ words echo in your head and you turn the water temperature up as high as it will go.

Your shower can be described only as violent, from the vigor with which you scrub at your skin to the manic malice you use to wring the car-trip-nastiness from your hair. You shove soap suds against your face, trying not to scream into your hands over the ridiculous skinny twat outside the bathroom door. 

You try desperately to gather your thoughts as you turn the water off and step out of the shower. You try to wring the stupid from the longer chunks of hair and scrub the awkward from yourself with the over-fluffy hotel towels. You tug on boxers and a different pair of university-sponsored sweatpants before leaving the bathroom, still mopping at your hair with the towel. 

“Your turn,” you grumble. You peek from under the white terrycloth to see Sollux gawping at you. You grin and scratch at your stomach. You guess that maybe you aren’t quite what he was expecting either.

“You can get over yourthelf now, dickprinthe.”

“I will as soon as you admit I’m fucking cut.”

“I will conthede that you’re more toned than I thought you would be. That’th it.”

“I guess that will work for now.”

You flop on his bed, claiming his territory because fuck him. As you commence some channel surfing, you hear the bath start running, but not the door shut. You try and focus on some programming regarding the honey badger, but it’s difficult when you know the dumbass left the bathroom door open.

“Hey jackass, you planning on shutting the door?” you shout when the water stops running.

“I mean, I’m a bit indithpothed. It’th not a big deal.”

“And what the hell do you mean by that?”

“Well, it’th not like I’m naked, or-“

“What the fuck?” You furrow your brows and get up, marching to the bathroom door. “Why the fuck are you bathing with your fucking clothes-“

You stop. Your brain stops. You aren’t breathing. Nothing is real. You are having the weirdest freaking dream and none of this has actually happened because there is absolutely no fucking way your best friend, Sollux Captor, is sitting on the edge of the bath tub in a pair of boxer briefs and shaving his goddamned legs.

You gape. He gapes. Something in the world has just broken or something. His face is as red as yours feels and the only real question in your mind may as well be written across your forehead: WHY?

“It-it’th for one of my cothplayth, I-“

“No. No, don’t talk about this. That will only make it weirder. I’m going to go watch some more fucking Animal Planet.” You turn around and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to get his mile-long legs out of your head. 

“I’m going ath one of the Thailor Thtarth tomorrow! It’th not that weird!”

You can’t. You seriously fucking can’t. You turn back around.

“Did you just tell me you’re dressing up as a sailor scout like that’s going to make this any less weird? Because that’s kind of not how anything works ever.”

“Ugh, KK, have you ever THEEN that theathon? The Thailor Thtarth are guyth and when they tranthform to thailor thcoutth, they turn into women. It’th contheptually a brilliant crothhplay.”

You agree with him, and then proceed to hate yourself a bit for doing so.

“I guess, uh, that I’m seeing this tomorrow?”

“You bet your athh you are.”

“Right. Okay. I have to be seen with a Male-or Scout. Great. I can do this.”

“Oh, fuck off. I’m a fucking geniuth.”

You swallow your retort and turn to leave. You seriously can’t keep going with this. Now, on top of everything, you have to also walk around with him in a tiny fucking skirt? Great. Awesome. You go back to the bed and crack your laptop open. 

When he finally gets his ass out of the bathroom, he’s looking considerably more sheepish. He’s all hunched and apologetic looking in an old t-shirt from high school and, regrettably, shorts. His legs are dotted with flecks of red and the occasional gouge or slice, making his inexperience in the realm of leg-razors more apparent and assuring. Still, they look touchably smooth and that is just uncomfortable. He grabs his own laptop and sits on the opposite end of the bed from you, not daring to make a sound for about an hour. 

Predictably, you are the one to crack.

“Hey, Sailor Priscilla Queen of the Desert, wanna play a match or two?”

“Oh fuck yeth. Thank Chritht.”

He moves to sit next to you on the pillows and the two of you go back to breathing the relaxed air you found before dinner. You both sit shoulder to shoulder, though as tall as he is, it’s more like shoulder to bicep. You both sit with your legs outstretched and your feet only barely pass the bulk of his calf muscle. The two of you murmur your attack plans to each other, chuckling at your efficiency. Every so often, your foot brushes his leg and the smoothness of it throws you for a loop, but you manage to get over it when you win and he knocks his forehead against yours, grinning. You laugh and give his forearm a squeeze, Tav’s words ringing through your head yet again.

“You’re being surprisingly not useless tonight.”

“Pleathe, thave your wordth. Thuch high praithe might make me blush.”

You nudge him hard, too close to really throw a punch. He laughs and nudges back, knocking a bony knee against you as well. You would say you could get used to this, but it’s too late; you already have.

“Only the best for my favorite drag queen. No praise is too extravagant. So, another match?”

“Fuck you and fuck yes.”

It’s three matches after that that you start getting tired. The screen starts to burn a bit at your eyes, but it’s manageable with some stern blinks and determination. It’s another four matches after that when you decide _fuck it_ , sink back a little farther into the pillows, and forego any further bantering in favor of curling into the side of the warm tower of person next to you. You sling an arm across the front of him, sleepily marveling at how comfortable such a bony person can be. You feel a long hand in your hair, gently scratching and massaging and you don’t last much longer after that. You feel the warm heat of your laptop lifted from your legs and you tuck them further against Sollux. You feel him shifting a bit and then he curls himself around you, settling his head on the pillow. It’s more than a little gay, but you decide you’re okay with that.

After all, Sollux is a great partner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things:  
> So, both of Sollux's cosplays have been revealed, but there's still Karkat's, if anyone wants to guess. still offering prizefic.  
> Also, this was written mostly during a livestream. I'm quite happy with how it turned out, so I'm going to start doing that more often. I've got the username lilowrites, if you want to catch it next time!


	11. Applications of Plastic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sollux takes a long damned time to get ready in the morning.

Your phone alarm pings from the bedside table and, when you reach to shut it off, there’s a Karkat in the way. Actually, there’s a Karkat… everywhere. His arms are braided around you, his legs twined with yours, his head pillowed on your chest. You do your best to crane and strain to reach your phone without waking him, slowly stretching your arm out. He grumbles and snuggles closer and you sigh. Of course he does. 

“KK,” you whisper down to him, “KK, my alarm ith going off and I want to shut it off tho you can thleep, but you have to move a bit-“

“Fuck you,” he grumbles. The little shit then bites at your shirt.

Using every ounce of willpower, bolstered by the ever-crescendoing dinging of your alarm, you lift Karkat up the slightest margin and scoot closer to the bed’s edge. It puts you in arm’s length of your phone and you manage to shut it the fuck up. Rumbling a bit to yourself, you now assess the Herculean task you face of untangling from your best friend. Ignoring the notion in your head that it’s going to take more than just some wiggling for you to untangle yourself from this kid, you pry a bit at his arms. He growls, your shirt still between his teeth.

“Karkaaaat…” You sigh again, screwing your eyes shut. You have a whole lot of prep work to do before you’re a true Sailor Scout.

He huffs at you and his hot, wet breath barges through your shirt to harass your skin. Just as you begin to reconsider both the idea of Karkat as someone you shouldn’t lust after and that of getting out of bed ever again, he withers into a tight ball. You crawl off of the bed and fold your side of the blanket over him, letting him rest while you make the bulk of your preparations. 

You scrub at your teeth, shove your hair back with a thin band, tap contacts over your eyes, smooth your complexion, define your eyes, staring in a mirror. The person on the other side of the glass grows more and more foreign. You crack a crooked grin at the unSollux opposite you. Stray thoughts and wonderings of which version of you Karkat would prefer get shoved aside as you stare gormlessly at your eyelash curler. You have less than one clue how the hell it works. The curled, sleeping kid on the other side of the bathroom wall crawls through your head as you haplessly apply and reapply eyeliner. You swear to yourself when you realize you were supposed to lacquer all this shit on your eyes in a different order, but it keeps your mind off of Karkat’s teeth in your shirt and his breath across your skin. 

You manage to attach to yourself a more feminine face before you begin trying to wiggle into your costume. As you tug up a pair of fake-leather hotpants that are really much shorter than you remember them being, you hear the angry, angry sound that is Karkat’s own alarm. He grumbles awake and, though your back is turned, you know the exact moment he becomes aware of exactly what you’re wearing.

“HOLY FUCK, I WAS HOPING THAT WAS JUST A NIGHTMARE GODDAMMIT SHIT.”

“Karkat, I’ve put a lot of hard work into thith. Pleathe try to be at leatht a little thupportive?”

You grin to yourself at his overwhelming reaction as you tug on your too-loose top. Not laughing proves impossible when you turn around and catch sight of the look on his face. He’s forced his mouth into a straight line, brows furrowed and eyes pried wide. His fists are twisted in the sheets, presumably an attempt to keep himself from tearing out his hair. When next he opens his mouth, his speech is measured and strained.

“Sollux. You. Are. Ridiculous.”

“Dude, I don’t even have the whole thing on yet.”

“Oh my shit. No. Get me out of this room. I cannot possibly spend another second with you. I have lost the ability to can.”

“Ugh, I’m only wearing thith for one day. Calm your titth.”

“That is one day too many to be seen with you.”

You roll your eyes as you tug your gloves on, slapping on accessories here and there. 

“You are theriouthly jutht made of dickth. You’ve bypathhed thimply being a dick and now you are jutht comprithed tholely of dickth.”

“No. No no no. Long and convoluted genitalia- and metaphor-based insults are MY thing. You and your cross-dressing ass need to step the fuck off. My fucking territory, fucknub.”

“You know, I can tell how uncomfortable you’re getting by your converthational fuck denthity.”

“Fuck you.”

“Not helping.”

Karkat storms up to you, doubtless ready to spew some long-winded invective in your face, but whatever he has to say dies in his throat as you sit to pull on your boots. You can hear the noise it makes and it is truly a tragic death cry. You smirk at him and the now-blank face he wears. 

“Fuck this shit. I’m gonna just get fucking dressed. Notify me when you look more convincingly female, you batshit tranny mess.”

He snags a drawstring bag from his luggage pile on the unused bed and stalks to the bathroom, slamming the door and leaving you with your thoughts again. You roll your eyes at how unbelievably immature he can act. He is just so juvenile sometimes and

Wait.

Juvenile.

Shit shit shit SHIT SHIT.

“Karkat?” you call through the bathroom door, suddenly embarrassingly desperate for information. You’ve seen his university gear and you know he lives in a dorm, but he might be one of those really young freshmen or, worse yet, a high school kid in a boarding school with his school of choice all picked out. Oh Christ, oh fucking fuck.

“WhAAAaaat?”

“How fucking old are you?” You manage to keep enough indignity in your voice to drown out the panic you’re feeling over perhaps having shared a bed with a goddamned minor, but the question still rings creepy in your head. 

“Ugh, I’m 19, cocklord. I’m a freshman in college. Questions answered?”

“Yeth, though I’m not sure cocklord is an effective inthult. It thoundth more like a member of the Juthtithe League.”

“Oh, fuck yooou.” The chuckles that bark between his words drink away any venom they may have carried. He’s silent for a beat before harassing you again. “So, cocklord, quid pro quo. How old are you?”

“Old enough to buy your boothe, printhethh.”

“Ha ha fuck you, but really. Because you can only get so old before running around a convention in a sailor girl outfit gets distinctly creepy… -er.”

“I’m 22, okay? Ith that a lethh creepy age?”

Again, he’s silent for a moment, before shrugging out a “Works for me…”

You do your best to shrug off the subtext as Karkat falls into quiet concentration. You finish getting ready, bag and all, and have a seat on the bed to tap your feet anxiously. On the one hand, you’re filled with a less than childlike glee at the prospect of his face when he sees your finishing touches. On the other hand, however, you’re a bit afraid of genuinely terrifying him. You sit and twitch and fidget for what feels like an hour before you hear the bathroom door’s knob turn and see a meticulously gelled head poke out from it. 

Cautiously, Karkat steps out from the bathroom, arms hanging awkward and unsure. His hair is all shellacked forward in an intimidating awning of bangs and he crosses his bare arms across his chest. His oversized green a-shirt is tucked loosely into a pair of shorts that refuse to convince you not to try and stare at his ass, while a pair of yellow suede work boots dare you to pull any stunts. You furrow your brows, not sure you’re seeing what you think you are. Karkat squirms a bit more under your scrutiny before inevitably acting out.

“Fuck, do you like it or not?”

“Are you… Heero? Like, from motherfucking Gundam Wing?”

“Hell fucking yes, I am. Is there an issue here?”

“No. No fucking issue. That’th awethome. Like, tho awethome. We are reprethenting the golden thtandardth of a magnifithent era of anime.”

“Okay, that’s a bit grandiose, even for me. Does that mean you like the costume or not?”

“Karkat, it’th fine. It’th great. Don’t worry.”

He chews his lip a bit, gripping at his own biceps, before piping up again.

“…Are people gonna like it?”

You roll your eyes, but dammit if he’s not precious. “Yeth. Everyone ith going to flip their shit and love it.” A warm glow rolls in your embarrassingly bare stomach at the smile he manages before taking up his bag.

“By the way… Nice rack.” You look down at your chest, grinning at the silicone domes you’ve crammed into your gravity-defying top. 

“That’th nothing.” You stand and turn around, revealing the matching set you’ve shoved down the back of your shorts. There’s a loud thump as Karkat falls against the closet door, laughing raucously. You turn to see tears streaming down his face. Your grin turns to a wicked smirk.

“So, I guess we’re ready to head out then, you crazy tranny mess?”

“Tho we are, you inthufferable punkathh.”

The two of you laugh, giggles bubbling out long after the jokes stop being funny, all being pushed out to make room for the butterflies in both of your guts. 

You’ve been waiting for this for a while now. You couldn’t have imagined a better way to kick it all off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things:   
> 1- References: Sollux is cosplaying Sailor Star Maker, shown here ==> http://www.internationalhero.co.uk/s/sailmake.jpg  
> Karkat is cosplaying Heero Yuy, shown here ==> http://images.wikia.com/dynastywarriors/images/2/26/Heero-dwg.jpg
> 
> 2- OH MY GOD, I AM SO SINCERELY AND UNPARALLELEDLY SORRY FOR THE AMOUNT OF TIME IT TOOK TO GET THIS CHAPTER OUT!!! I finally got a real people job and also began my classroom observation hours, so life got a lot busier. Luckily, observations are done for now, not to mention I'm considerably more inspired for the next update, so you guys will be seeing it in 1-3 days, like you're used to. AGAIN, SORRY FOR THE PSEUDO-HIATUS. I LOVE YOU ALL AND DIDN'T ABANDON YOU, I SWEAR -sobbing-


	12. Mixing Liquors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've waited, and it is here at last: The reason for the warning.  
> Not messin around here, this is porn. 3000 words and half of it is smut.  
> Because I love you all.

You stumble back into the room with Sollux at an hour you only care to describe as “dark as balls.” You’re both giggling like idiots, still on a high from the rave. You elbow Sollux, demanding your rum and a foot rub. He kicks you with a high-heeled foot, to which you reply with a grumbled “touché” as you fish a thermos from your luggage.

“Really, KK? A thermoth? For your boothe? You are a fucking clathh act.”

“What, did you bring a set of tumblers and highball glasses, Super Tranny Moon?”

“I’ve got your highball right here, athh hole.”

You lose your shit entirely, ducking from the bracelet he throws at you.

“Watch yourthelf. The weave’th coming off nektht. I’ll choke your bitch athh with it, I fucking thwear.”

“Holy shit, when did you get your pleather panties crammed up your ass?”

“I don’t need thith.” He swings the fridge door open. “What I need ith alcohol.”

He grabs his bottle of fancy whiskey by the neck and, finding no suitable container in arms reach, takes a swig from the bottle. With a satisfied hiss, he caps it again and has a seat on his bed. You’re trying to find a way to fuss your stupid boots off while not spilling your tasty, tasty rum. You hear Sollux’s patented dry snicker and jolt when one of his gloves slaps against the side of your head. You turn to see him fling the other at you, missing wide as he laughs his ass off. 

Asshole.

Once you get the first boot off, it’s flung at the dicknibbler’s head, colliding with the wall over his shoulder. You scramble to get the other off, but by the time you do, he can’t even give you the courtesy of being interested anymore, instead engaged in his whiskey.

“Is that that honey bullshit you jizz your pants over?”

“You bet your thweet athh it ith. By the way, thothe shortth do you all of the favorth. All of them.”

“Can you at least wait until we can both pretend you’re drunk to make creepy compliments?”

“Okay, I had freakathh neckbeardth thaying I had a nithe rack all day. My creepy gauge needth to be recalibrated. Cut me thome thlack.”

You roll your eyes and take what you soon realize is an overambitious swig from your thermos. You do your best to hide your coughing and sputtering as the alcohol burns your throat, but there’s really no hiding from the only other person in the room.

“You know, I won’t judge you if you uthe a fucking mikther.”

“Oh, like hell you wouldn’t! You’re over there drinking straight whiskey. I can’t handle rum that tastes like starbursts. What the fuck even.”

“Theriouthly, there’th Thprite in the fridge and it tathteth beautiful with that shit. If you grab me the Coke and a cup, it would be nithe to mikth thith shit.”

You rumble and you try to shoot him a glare, you really do, but your eyes get stuck on the band of skin between his boots and shorts and your indignity dies. You take one of the glasses from the bathroom sink and grab a can of Coke and one of Sprite before sitting back on the bed, your back to his. As the two of you mix your drinks, you decide to pry a bit.

“So, question: did you have to shave your fucking stomach to wear those shorts? Or are you just some kind of freaky, hairless naked mole rat/nerd combo?”

He cackles at you and you frown. 

“I will admit to a bit of manthcaping, yeth. That thaid, I’m not the fucking grithhly bear that you are.”

“Hey, fuck you! I’m not even that hairy!”

“You have a happy trail that goeth for mileth, kid. It’th more like a happy highway.”

“Can we not talk about my pubes while you’re wearing a dominatrix outfit? That would be cool, thanks.”

“If I’ve told you onthe, I’ve told you a thouthand timeth: It’th not a dominatrikth outfit, I’m a goddamned Thailor Thcout. I am a defender of the motherfucking galakthy.”

“Yeah, okay. Whatever. And I pilot a giant fucking robot to defend the Colonies.”

“Ekthactly. Now drink your rum and shut the fuck up.”

You nudge your shoulder against his back and he does the same. You use him as a back rest and he tilts his head back against yours. Warmth begins to creep over your skin and you grin. Yay for booze.

“Thoooo, did you have a good time today?”

“I thought you told me to shut up.”

“I did. And now I want to know how your day wath. Do you have comprehension issueth?”

“Fuck you.” You take a solid swig of your emasculated drink. “It was awesome.”

“Thought tho. Favorite part?”

“Well, the Grubquest panel was FUCKING AWESOME. That dance was pretty neat too, I guess, but I can’t really feel my legs anymore.”

“That meanth you did it right.”

You think Sollux might be telling you what he thought about everything, but your mind is wandering back through the day. You spent a really uncomfortable staring at his stomach and that ever-damned bit of skin peeking between his stupid shorts and his fucking ridiculous boots. There’s a bony as fuck elbow in your side that brings you back to the Land of Here and Now.

“I thaid, wath it really that embarrathhing to be theen with me?”

“Since you were frequently mistaken for a really tall, shameless chick, I have to say no. You made me look like I scored big, so I guess I owe you that one.”

“Shit, thon, I make you look even if I’m not all lady-fied. I am a fine piethe of athh.”

“Yeah, except your ass is made of silicone.”

“You know what, shut up! You are tho critical. You wanna go, KK? Becauthe I don’t give a fuck. I will throw the fuck down.”

“Sollux, what-“

“No. Oh hell no.” To your dismay, he shoves his hands into his top and fishes out his bra-stuffings. They make a lewd jiggle in his fists as he shouts in your face, “Hold my titth, KK, I’mma fuckin throw down!”

He flops sideways on the bed, a fit of tipsy giggles. You can’t help but peek over the edge of the bed to make sure he hasn’t spilled anything. Sollux has rolled face down, feet kicking and fists twisted in the sheets, chest shaking from waves and waves of laughter. You’re laughing with him, but suddenly, your thoughts are otherwise consumed. As Sollux laughs, the bra-stuffers he’s shoved down the back of his shorts jiggle in about the most preposterous fashion imaginable. You don’t know what’s come over you, but you’ll be damned if you can stop it. 

You raise a hand and land a mighty swat across the silicone lumps in his shorts. Sollux jolts and yelps, flipping over with the most scandalized expression he can manage.

“And ekthactly what in the hell-“

“I CAN’T BE HELD ACCOUNTABLE, THEY WERE JUST TOO JIGGLY AND I’M KIND OF DRUNK.”

That earns you a solid slug on the shoulder and Sollux curls around his glass again. He eyes you carefully over the rim, eyebrow inching toward his hairline.

“WhAAAaaat?”

“Not lettin you thlap my athh again. You’ve got a helluva arm there.”

You laugh and okay, so you’re definitely inching towards drunk and you’ve maybe stopped mixing your rum with Sprite. You grin at him and flex an arm. You aren’t sure why you do it, but his reaction is a fine justification. You don’t think his eyebrows can go much higher. It’s damn right that they would, too. You’re rather pleased with your arms. You work out, dammit.

“Shiiit,” he whines from behind his whiskey, “Fuck, can I touch?”

Oh damn, you are so awesome. You set your drink down and crawl over to him, satisfied smirk plastered across your face. You settle yourself facing him, legs pressing against his, so you can be close enough. You flex again, this time with a bit more drama and what you hope passes for suavity. Long, reverent fingers reach out and wrap around your arm, giving a hesitant squeeze. It grows in intensity as the look on his face becomes more impressed.

“Damn. Daaamn. Double damn, KK, I retract any and all emathculating thtatementth ever.”

“You aren’t drunk enough if you’re still saying “emasculating” instead of “mean”.”

“I don’t think you underthtand. I’m a very articulate drunk.”

“Well, what if I just want you to shut the hell up?”

He looks scandalized again for just a moment, the moment it takes for you to decide that you’re absolutely sure you’re going to do this for real.

You quit flexing and thread a hand in his hair, leaning forward to demand a kiss. You’re less than graceful and not quite gentle, but the sweet honey and sour mash taste too good on his lips. Underneath yours, his lips are frozen. You frown and pull back, hand staying firmly in his hair. You yank the glass from his hand and throw the rest of the drink back. Sollux’s lips work silently and he stares wide-eyed at you.

“Didn’t wanna spill,” you shrug as you twist to set the glass on the nightstand. The glass only just touches the table when a set of spindly fingers digs firmly into your ass. You can’t help the undignified yelp as Sollux twists you back around by the hip. You find yourself tugged into his lap and you can’t find it in you to complain. Both of your hands tangle themselves in his hair and you hover your lips a breath’s width from his. He jerks his chin up a bit and you tilt away just as far, no farther.

“You are a fucking teathe.”

“Mmmnoap. I’m a teeassssse. With’n “s” dumbshit.”

“Oh chritht, you’re drunk.”

“Yep, and you aren’t drunk enough, ‘f that’s a problem.” You tuck your face to the side of his neck and giggle against the skin. “Seriously, yer drinkin straight whiskey. How’re you not as gone as me?”

“I lead a truly mitherable life and, thuth, have a high toleranthe.”

You settle your hips into his lap and line some kisses up along his neck. “C’mon, it’s not that bad. You’ve got me, right?”

He snorts, but his breath catches when you nip at his ear. “You don’t ekthactly bolthter my thelf-ethteem very often.”

“Well, you’ve got two options then, don’tcha.”

“And what might thothe be?”

“I can tell you yer pretty or I can skip th’ bullshit and suck you off. Preference?”

He just stares at you for a stretch and in that moment, you are convinced that you, Karkat Vantas, have just ruined absolutely everything ever.

“Ohhh Oh shit shit fuck, shit fuck dickballs, shit, I’m soooo sorry! Fuck, that was really weird and gay and not okay and forward and fffffFFFFUCK. I am such the hugest fuckup and-“

“Woah, hey, calm down. What?”

“I-I… And you just… I mean, I… I fucked the hell up.”

He wraps an arm around your waist and reaches up to stroke your hair, reminding you of your fists still in his hair.

“KK, believe me: you on my dick thoundth better than awethome. You’re jutht… REALLY drunk.”

“So I didn’t just weird you out?”

“Oh hell no. I jutht… Don’t want to date rape you?”

“Uh, fuck. Yeah. Fair, I guess.” You grumble and bury your face back in his neck. “Not even just a lick?” you mumble against his ear. A delicious shudder tears down him and you smirk.

“No, um, no lickth. Maybe thtill makeoutth, though?”

“I’m for it. Maybe some junk grabbin?”

“I… fine. Sure. Junk grabth are fair game.”

You grin and your hand dives to palm him through the fake leather shorts as you kiss a trail back up to his lips. You scratch a bit at his scalp and, admittedly, focused as you are on everything else, it is perhaps a bit more difficult than usual to find Sollux’s mouth. He manages to find yours, though, thankfully, and he flicks his tongue against your lower lip. His long hands find your hips and you smirk into your kiss. The taste of Sollux’s honey whiskey buzzes between your tongues and you understand now how he can drink it straight from the bottle. You nip at his lip and he bites back, catching your tongue. Your fist tightens in his hair and a strangled noise twists out of him. Careful fingers tease the hem of your shirt out from your pants and you duck a bit in an attempt to facilitate. You squeeze a bit at Sollux’s trapped dick and chuckle into his mouth. He grinds up against your hand and you oblige his eagerness with a tighter grip.

“Ooh, Sollux, are you gonna cream your Sail’r Scout pants? You kinky little shit.”

“You’re the one g-groping a tranny.”

You bite at his neck and he wails, ending his teasing. The hands at your hips fumble to life, as if suddenly realizing that they’re good for something more useful than just keeping you still. One stays to grab at your ass while the other sneaks forward to press against your cock, which is straining against your shorts for all it’s worth. You shudder at the touch and he chuckles in your ear. You bite again at his neck and earn a throaty groan. Suddenly, his hands are off of you and he’s swatting your hand away. You pull back, confused, to see him squirming out of his shorts. You smirk and, though you know he’ll complain, you duck down to swipe your tongue against his freed cock. He scrabbles to try and pull you up, only to have his hands end up atop your head as you take his tip into your mouth. 

It’s not the best taste, but your taste buds are sufficiently deadened from the sugary rum and honeyed whiskey for you not to mind. You do your best to run your tongue around him, feeling a bit clumsy. The tightening grip on your hair, however, says you’re doing just fine. You brace your hands just above the tops of his boots and steel yourself. You bob your head as low as you can manage and, with a strong suck, it’s over. The first taste of cum hits your tongue and you pull back, content to let it hit his stomach and your cheek rather than swallow the bitterness down. The fingers in your hair slide away and Sollux is panting underneath you. With shaking arms, he straightens himself, then shoves you over onto your back. You quirk an eyebrow at him before you realize he’s crawling over your legs.

“I thwear to god, if you wake up and declare thith rape, I will jutht go jump off a fucking bridge onto thome sharp-athh rockth becauthe I will detherve it.” Morbid though his tirade is, he makes it while tearing the fly of your shorts open and shoving them down. “Thith,” he starts, making eye contact with you over his glasses, “ith how you give a fucking blowjob.”

One long, alarmingly skilled hand ducks to wrap around your base while the other cups your sac. You squirm and chew your lip. There is no way this is lasting a respectable amount of time. Sollux leans down and licks a deliberate stripe across your head, then kisses the very tip. Your head falls back and then you can’t feel his breath against you.

“Fuck you. Watch.”

A shiver runs up your spine and you prop your head up with a hand. Staring you dead in the eyes, he slowly takes your length in his mouth, stopping only when his mouth hits his hand. You can’t stifle the groan that comes and, judging from the burn of heat pooling in your gut, this isn’t going to take long. He catches your eye again and moves his hand away, taking just a bit more of you. You’re pretty sure your eyes are bugging out. 

“N-now you’re just showing off, asswi-i-iiipe!” He hollows his cheeks and sucks all the way to your tip, a lewd pop splitting the air at the end.

“You should talk more,” he mumbles, lips against your shaft. His tongue flicks out and it really isn’t even fair how he know exactly how to push your buttons.

“Fuh-uh-uuuck, like what?”

“Get creative,” he shrugs before taking your tip in his mouth again.

“Gah, fuck, SHIT, Sollux, where in the hell did you learn to suck cock?”

A sort of chuckle hums against you and you shudder again. Your fingers knot in the sheets and your head falls back. A playful swat against your thigh urges you to look back up and you can’t handle the sight of him. You reach and twist a hand in his hair and he makes another hard suck against you. Before he’s reached your tip, you reach your limit, tumbling over the edge. You come in his mouth and, unlike you, he’s a fucking sport about it. You feel the muscles of his mouth work as he swallows and you and your jellied limbs shudder and quake. 

“Holy fuck. Like, holy fucking fuck… I… Damn.”

He crawls up your side and slings an arm across you. A sweet kiss is pressed against your cheek and you tuck yourself against him, kicking your damned shorts off the rest of the way.

“You look ridiculous,” you mumble to his collarbone. He laughs a bit and sits up to shuck the rest of his costume before settling back down to curl around you and follow you into oblivion, heedless of the hangover that would harass you both come morning.


	13. Paging Pythagoras

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The worst part is, I don't think they're even going to get breakfast.  
> Fluff. Fluffy fluff. Rainbows vomiting on little baby lambs fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those who predicted Sollux would be freaking out: he would, were he not so damned hungover. He loves whiskey. It does not love him.
> 
> In his stead, panicky Karkat.

You’re woken up by the deadly combination of a hangover and your pillow moving. You grumble and cling to the wiggly bastard and he stills. You get an awkward pat on the head, then the fucker tries moving again. You clamp an arm across his middle and his gut makes an odd twitch.

“Sollux, lemme go,” he grunts in a harsh whisper. You shake your head against his chest. He does not get to rob you of a pillow when you are this hungover. “Sollux, I gotta pee.”

“No you don’t.” He stops his moving and settles his hand on your head again. He pets your hair a bit before piping up, still in a whisper.

“I had a, uh… a weird dream last night.”

“No you didn’t.” God fuck, why does he insist on talking? Sleeping is clearly far superior.

“What the fuck do you mean, I didn’t?”

“We aren’t wearing pantth. It wathn’t a dream.”

“…Oh.”

He wiggles a bit more, this time down your chest. He tucks his head under yours and you find this to be acceptable. You have no clue where his capacity to move is coming from, but good for him. You have no such luck.

“Ith that a problem?” you grumble to his hair. 

“I…No. Not in the slightest, actually. Should it be?”

“It ithn’t for me if it ithn’t for you.”

“Okay, because that sounds so assertive and assuring.”

“Karkat, I am hungover ath fuck. I adore you, but my brain ith trying to ekthplode out my eye thocketth. I want to cuddle and maybe thleep thome more. Doeth that work for you?” 

Silence.

Then, a soft kiss to your sternum. You grin into his hair and snake your arms around him. His legs twist with yours and blissful darkness wraps around you both for another hour.

When the alarm comes calling, your head still pounds, but you’re at a much more easy peace. You kiss at the top of Karkat’s head and reach past him to silence your phone. You kiss his cheek, nip at his ear, skritch just a bit between his shoulders.

“Karkat, wake uuup,” you hum just over his ear. This earns you a sharp nip at your collarbone that makes you yelp. “FUCK. OW.” You swat at the back of his head. “Wake up, you little shit.” No more tenderness. Dickwads do not deserve your tenderness. You feel a gentle kiss where he bit and your self-righteous rage melts away. You give him a gentle squeeze and untangle your limbs, sitting up. The mop of black hair rolls itself over and grunts into the mattress.

You stagger out of the bed, not sure how you got under the covers in the first place. You chuckle at the costume bits littering the room, taking care not to step on the clip-on earring you tossed away at some point. You grab your fake ponytail and clip it to the horizontal bar in the closet, reminding yourself to comb it out later. You’re pretty sure you’ll come to regret your carelessness.

Quietly as you can manage, you dig through your bag for Advil and pour out two glasses of Sprite. You set them down on the bedside table and tug on a pair of underwear. You sit at Karkat’s side and nudge him a bit, dumping a couple pills into your hand and offering them with the glass of soda. The lump of muscle and mess scoops the offering up gladly and, after downing the medicine, mumbles “Tav was so right about you.” 

“Thorry, what?” You toss back the Advil and your daily meds, then return to shooting Karkat a concerned look. His cheeks color and he buries his face back in the mattress.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” he grumbles, muffled by layers of cotton. You flop yourself flush across his back, pinning him. You tuck your chin between his shoulder and the side of his face.

“What, ekthactly, did Tav thay about me?”

“I said nothing, fucknub! Calm your fake tits!”

“I’m not getting up until you tell me, athh wipe.” For good measure, you pin his wrists with your hands.

“I could stay like this all day, dickprince.”

“Duly noted, Karkat liketh bondage.”

“AUGH! THAT WAS NEVER SAID.”

“Neither wath what Tav thaid. Let’th fikth that.”

“FINE. FUCK YOU. God, you are such a prick. Fuck the fuck out of you, you slab of rhinocerous shit-“

“Oh, ith that what he thaid about me? Well, that’th jutht downright hurtful.”

“Uhm, well, no.” You can feel the side of his face heating and you get the feeling that this is going to be good.

“He just, he said that you …” You lose the rest of the sentence to the mattress.

“Karkaaaat,” you warn.

“He said that you’re a g…” Again, the mattress becomes his confidant. In a fit of the purest evil, you wrap his hair around your fingers and give an upward tug. His head flies back and he gasps. His now-freed hand flies to the one pinning its opposite’s wrist. He chews his lip, defeat plain across his face.

“Latht chanthe Karkat.”

“And you called me a kinky bastard.”

“If I’m not mithtaken, you’re getting off on thith a bit.”

“Try a lot, but whatever.”

“Anyway.”

“He, uh. Christ, this is hurting my neck. He said you’re a… a great partner.” You drop his head and it lands against the bed with the softest of thumps. He moves to rub at his neck with his free hand, but you beat him to it, rubbing soothing strips across the knotted muscle. He purrs at the touch and wiggles under you. You kiss at the side of his neck, an indomitable grin across your face. Damn right, you’re a good partner.

Suddenly, with an almighty shove, Karkat tosses you from his back onto yours. You let go of his wrist and he crawls over you. He kneels over your stomach and tilts himself, putting his nose just inches from yours.

“Okay, important fucking question time.” As his eyes burn a hole through yours, you remember just how intimidating you found them when he first walked in the room. You do your best to keep your face neutral.

“Athk away.”

“So last night, we fooled around.”

“Yeth.”

“And, as far as I can tell, it was mutually enjoyed?”

“Yeth. Altho, congratth on being able to uthe “mutually” while thtill hungover.”

“Thanks. Anyway, is that all that was?” Longer strands of his hair tickle your face and you itch to brush them back and just cradle his head. You frown and keep yourself still.

“That’th a loaded ath fuck quethtion.”

“So it is.”

“What do you want?”

“I asked you first.”

“Well, I thought it wath kind of obviouth, when I thaid I adored you.”

“Hungover bullshit to get me to shut up.”

“Only a little bit. The adoring bit wath true.”

“Bullshit. I’m an angry kid you met on the internet who’s hairier than a buffalo and gives terrible blowjobs.”

“And I’m an athocial, bipolar, alcoholic freak whothe only redeeming quality ith hith amathing blowjobth.” 

Karkat snorts and chews his lip, trying to keep the laughter down.

“That’s a repulsive underrepresentation of yourself, fucking idiot cockmongler.”

“And I could thay the thame for you.”

“I’m not going to fish for compliments, here, but…”

“Yeah, you’re fantathtic. Where do you live?”

“I go to school about three hours south of here. You?”

“I live like an hour and a half wetht.”

“Fuck fuck fuck fucking geometry…”

“That’th like threeish hourth.”

“I could do that.”

“Me too. You’re a broke college kid. I’ll help with gath.”

“I don’t need help.”

“No, but it’th nithe.”

“Fuck, no Sollux.”

“Why?”

“You already take care of me too much.”

“And that’th normal if I’m your boyfriend.”

“Is that what you want to be?”

“Only if it’th what you want.”

“Shut up.”

A pair of urgent, insistent, desperate, chapped lips cover yours. You slide your hands up his sides and his chest melts to yours. Your arms cover his back and his hands find your face. He pulls back to rest his forehead against yours. 

“Are we for real here? Is this a thing we’re doing?”

“I hethitate to uthe the word commitment, but I’m yourth if you’ll have me.”

A fist meets your shoulder.

“Quit acting like I’m some fucking present or some shit.”

“Then thtop being the only perthon who can take my thtupid bullshit.”

“No.”

“Then I won’t either.”

“You aren’t going to let me pay for my half of the hotel are you?”

“Mmmnope.”

“Fuck you.”

You kiss at his cheek.

“Fuck you too. Let’th get drethhed, nekkid-athh.”

“Fiiiiine.”

 

As you check your hair for the millionth time in the mirror, Karkat prods you in the side with your Sonic Screwdriver before stuffing it into your trenchcoat pocket. His badge dangles over a beaten and worn Grubquest shirt and you can’t help your grin. You dare the world to try and construct a better morning as you whip out your umbrella.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks to everyone who joined me in the stream! It was an absolute blast, both last night and today!  
> Also, confession: we aren't going to get to see Karkat and Sollux wandering around the convention because that is hours and hours of interaction with characters we'll never see again and it means I have to figure out all of the Con's events and panels and guests and ahroglf Fuck that, I'm lazy. Use your imagination, they're doing exactly what you want them to be doing.


	14. A Weird Kind of Domestic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karkat freaks out and then doesn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD I'M SO SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING IN SO LONG.  
> I didn't kill this fic, I just was coming at this chapter from the complete wrong angle, so I finally just scrapped it all today and I think what ended up happening is so much better, both on its own and for the story as a whole.
> 
> So yeah. This isn't dead, I swear. We've got another two or three chapters yet.

There’s something distressingly domestic about coming back to the room with Sollux. At your ordering, he calls for Jimmy Johns even though it isn’t Thursday and when the sandwiches and chips and cookies and soda that you wind up mixing with alcohol come, you sit on the floor while he sits on the bed. Your arms are locked around his legs and he sets his cookie on your head. He grumbles at you for wrinkling his trousers and you remind him he’s a douchebag for still having his trenchcoat on. You turn on late night Telemundo and he tries to impress you with his knowledge of Spanish. He translates it well enough, but you tell him his lisp sounds ridiculous, so you both settle for making up your own plotlines instead.

You don’t want this to be a thing that stops tomorrow. He massages at your neck and you lean into his touch, desperately wishing you didn’t have to leave it for your awful classes on Monday morning. Your eyes sting and you grip at his calves a little tighter. You tuck your knees to your chest and blink hard. His forgotten cookie slides from your head. He laughs and you forget why you thought anything was tragic at all. 

“You’re an ass.”

“Oh come on, you can’t tell me Maria ithn’t boning Raoul behind Jothe’th back-“

“Not talking about that, dumbfuck. THAT is a perfectly obvious and immutable fact. I’m talking about the fact that you are, objectively, an asshole.”

“You thay to the guy you shared a bed with latht night, and who altho bought your food.”

“Irrelevant.”

“Okay, tho why am I an athh?”

“I’m gonna miss you Monday morning.”

He snakes his fingers into your hair and massages your scalp.

“I hate to break it to you, Karkat, but that doethn’t make me an athh. And if it doeth, then you’re an athh too.”

“No, because I’m not going to miss me on Monday morning. I’ll be right the fuck with me. There will be no missing to be done. Are you retarded?”

“Now you’re being purpothefully obtuthe.”

“You leave my teeth out of this.”

There’s a fully deserved swat to the back of your head and you cackle. 

“Why do I enjoy your company?”

“I give fucking stellar blowjobs.”

“No, you really don’t.”

“That wasn’t your opinion last night.”

“No, that WATH my opinion latht night, I jutht appreciated the thought of the gethture far beyond the ekthecution.”

“And THAT is why you’re an ass.”

He laughs again and then his face is in your hair, nuzzling and chuckling against you. You think you might have melted a bit. He resumes his massaging of your scalp, this time also hiding kisses in your tangles. His blunt nails scratch gently at you and it sends warm prickles down your neck.

“If you want to talk about what we’re doing, jutht thay tho.”

“Tho.”

“You’re a fucking dick.”

“So are you. So what are we doing?”

“Well, we’re a thing, right?”

“If you’re still up for it.”

“My opinion hathn’t changed in lethh than a day, Karkat.”

“So how are we gonna make this work?”

“Vithitth? Like, me driving to thee you on weekendth or thome shit?”

“You could meet Tav.”

“The one who thayth I’m a great partner?”

“Heh. Yeah, that one.”

“And thometimeth maybe you could come by my plathe?”

“Tell me about it.”

“Huh?”

“Your place. Tell me about it.”

“It’th a little crackerbokth houthe. There’th a window in every room, even the bathroom. It’th kind of weird, but the natural light ith nithe…”

You listen to him mumble about his home as you climb up into his lap. He tells you about his broken garbage disposal as you sneak his coat off his shoulders. He tells you what he keeps in his pantry while you unbutton his blazer. His voice catches while listing his favorite places to sit, but mostly because you’ve tugged a bit too hard at his tie. 

“I like it,” you conclude while absently beginning to unbutton his shirt. 

“I’m glad?”

“Tell me I can visit Saturday.”

“You can abtholutely vithit Thaturday.”

You push his shirt off his shoulders and wrap your arms around him, pressing your cheek to his bare chest.

“Ith there a reathon you thtripped me while lithtening to my real ethtate lithting?”

“I wanted to know about it. Lay down.”

“Pushy pushy…”

He leans back, slinging his arms around your shoulders to pull you with him. 

“Tho anyway, the thtripping happened becauthe…?”

“…Hearing about your house kinda took a load off. Also, you look good in a suit.”

“Tho you took it off?”

“You look better without it.”

He reaches by his hip and gropes for his tie. He drapes it across the back of your neck and smirks. 

“Tho we’re all good, then?”

“I think so, yeah.”

“Then if it’th alright with you, I think I’d like you to go back to making orderth.”  
He tugs you up for a kiss that he smirks through, tongue sneaking to trace your lips. Being in the room with Sollux feels so bizarrely domestic, yes, but with the tie at your disposal, it doesn’t bother you too much. You sink your teeth into his shoulder and you can imagine what might be different if you were on his apparently shitty couch. His arms twist and strain, lashed to the headboard, and you wonder if it would be feasible to tie him to one of the boards on your top bunk. You’re straddling his hips and panting and it isn’t too hard to pretend you’re on the bed back home that he said is too big for him anyway. 

You can’t remember the last time you were this happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In other news, if you draw anything for this or you write any related drabbles or anything, DON'T HESITATE TO TELL ME. I love all of you and it makes me so freaking happy whenever I see people interacting with my work like that! Or at all, really! I've now seen two different pictures people have drawn and oh god they're fantastic and I love all of you.
> 
> Like really, if any of you want to draw Sollux and Karkat in their cosplays, I will love you forever and ever and then some.


	15. Clockstopper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weird time shit happens when Karkat is around. Sollux doesn't mind too terribly.

You don’t wake up on the first try. You’re warm and sore and all tangled up in your favorite douchebag.

The morning can wait.

\---

The second time you try to wake up, you manage to get your eyes open. There’s still a powerful burn through your arms and stomach and back, but you can’t find it in you to be upset. You plant a kiss on top of the mess of hair that has enforced itself under your chin. You curl your fingers against his ribs and wiggle a bit, trying to lengthen your neck and spine to stretch. On top of your chest, Karkat squirms and rolls off of you, stretching his arms over his head. Relief washes over you as you lean over to kiss him on the cheek, and then roll out of bed unbitten for the first morning since you’ve met him. 

\---

Sunday is stolen from you. The morning rushes past and you tangle your fingers tight with Karkat’s to keep him from being swept away with it. He hauls you from booth to booth, trying desperately to dash between the closing attractions. He’s trying hard to pretend that he doesn’t just have a few more hours in the weekend and so are you, but apparently, your imagination isn’t as good. 

Two rolls around and there’s little left open. You park your sorry ass on the edge of a fountain just outside the convention center. Some of your bitching seems to have reached Karkat’s ears and he stands behind you, balanced precariously, massaging guiltily at your shoulders. You soak up the feel of his hands, the warmth of him through your shirt. You tilt your head back to lean against his belly and everything is a little bit perfect.

\---

You get into a shouting match as you help each other throw suitcases into cars. His eyes are terrifying. They look like they could glow. He still looks like he chews his words and you’re pretty sure you can hear traces of an old, old accent behind his too-loud words. He knots his fingers in either side of your jacket as he tells you you’re an idiot. He tucks his hands inside it and you’re the worst person he’s ever met. His cheek nuzzles against your chest and you’re absolutely horrible. You kiss the top of his forehead and tell him that you’re still not going to take any gas money from him. He huffs and clings to your last suitcase, refusing to put it in your trunk. You give up and let him take it, unsure of what other options you really have.

\---

He doesn’t text you any more than usual, which is to say constantly. Now, though, he sometimes sends you pictures. It’s of stupid things, like his lunch or some conundrum his roommate has gotten into or how the back of his hair kind of looks like the Virgin Mary, which he would give a shit about if he weren’t so convinced that any kind of possible higher power must surely hate him if it exists at all. In turn, you send him pictures of the drinks you mix for yourself at 3 PM on a Tuesday and the hell that is your kitchen sink and the wild-eyed face you get when you’re up past sunrise on too many energy drinks.

Your bed is really cold without him in it.

\---

You stand outside a door that has to be from the 70s, plain but for the overly cheery decorations screaming the occupants’ names. You shift your weight from foot to foot, anxiety twisting in your gut. Your arm is twisted uncomfortably behind your back and the other reaches to knock hesitantly at the decades-old door. It swings wide and there he is, framed in the doorway, small and nervous and just as fantastic as the last time you saw him. He squeezes you tight and, when his fingers brush against the flowers in the hand behind your back, he calls you a string of names that starts with “truly unbearable thundercunt” and ends with “fucking fantastic bastard.”

It’s all pretty true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...And that's it! I'm about to dive into a pretty big project, but it'll likely be a series of shorts, so you guys can rest assured that this will NOT be the last SolKat from me yet!
> 
> Thanks so much for keeping up with me through all this!


End file.
